PZ 3 
.M8453 
L I 


FT MEADE 
GenCol 1 



* %, Jy° ► * 

* : 



°*. ‘..o’ A 0 ; ts> *.,,• 

\/ *iO&o ^ ** ♦* 

;* .<r % • 




° V> O 

* «? V, o 


< V 

* O <1** * 

’ : / ' 

>* *° . 

A 0 V *•<’■ 

♦, jy *> 

• ^ /* .‘ffife ^ 

^ v -.'o'.' y ^ <£ s % 

^ ^ # S A \]J * O m i ^ /V > /► V* ^1 

^ r <y t • w j* ♦ ^c> c o»», <6 . 

^ -v * <§§sS\>v -3%, „ & * 

^5 * 2 * « o ,o 

V" o o ^ *+?&»*%' «V o % 

^ °«° .0 ^ •'* <V ‘oVo* 

* ■ ™ 4> < -^\%^a ! 0 ^ ♦* 

V^ *Wb&&o ?* A v«* 

* « C T^ 

^ ' <> . 0 ^ *'?.?*'* /\ ' 

C> 0 0 " ® * <*> . l ' * * ^ A> o M » 

O • r oiSV\ * *£ ..O t * ^ o Ofr c°"°-» 

-jp* V * igVZ/vb? ° * _i<SN\ - <► 

'‘opr* -^ssssMl^m- a < 4F(if//^> * ... -<< 






O' 

* ^ C,^ 



- ^ o' 

^ ^ ^ 0v ^ * 

O *> « f} •**, i. 

%. -o .’ 5 a° V *rr,»* 

*•• \ / 4s&- \ .♦ 

:• 5f --«^-- *«* 




6 " ^ 


O. 

y<V v. 


c y * 

J. mm- I V ' 

• “'% ^ , 0 ^ .- 1 -** 

* •y' . , C * 

. ^ CT 





V * S + O. ,<y ft y ® °jr '•^ 4 ^ . f • • 

•« <$V ^ aV »> a <<15J • A A V 


' % <? ' 
°. vV^ ° 

* .C,* °vfV ° 


;* ^ ^ °. « j, « ., v . . 

A 6 %, '»•»* „A <U ''TV*' .0 

n^ . . 1 ' • « ^o .& v 0 o * « , <s> 

• c£^v ** ^cl c v , v 

•*N v <5 vN\\\ ty^ * *s^. v ♦ 


'o y 


, >°% ‘ 

' /* ... V*"’- A* 


^^o 0 * >cv* ^ 

. ^ vP V 

* ** ^v • 

\ <“ 

^ . C J^ *<■> ^ 1 * t / ^ < * /**b 


4 o. 

' ’ ■«<> «» 


O lP V* 

& ^ ^ ^ 

^ 

* 0 M 0 0 « 0 

0 V «» y * ° ^ ^ t, s * * * ^ » p * • £ 

_ v . <fcv <£ ♦ 

<^ v ! * : >9 b 



* ^ O 



A>.* - 

* * AV ❖>. 

4 ^ v 

<y c o * ° * ^ 

i> » 








Land of the Laurel 


A STORY OF THE ALLEGHANIES 



3 » 3 J • > 3 3 

1 9 » J 

3 3 3 3 ) * 

3 3 > 3 

0 1 3)3) 


3 ) 1 3 , 4 J ■) > 

3 >3 33 , 3 J. , 

3 9 3 » .3 ft ft * 3 3 j 

5 3 3 3 > ft 3 ft 3 ) 

3333 3 33 ft ) ft ft ft 


) { 


> ’ 3 ft > 3 3 , 3 , 

3 >31 

5 0 > J ) J > 

.> 4 > 5 , ) )* ) « 

> 5 ) ") f 


'3 ’ > 

3 3 ,”, , 

> 3 3 3 3 


3 ” 
> ) 


BY 

OREN F. MORTON 

w 


MORGANTOWN, W. VA. 

THF ACME PUBLISHING COMPANY 

1903 


TZ* , r 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

SEP 26 1903 

Copyright Entry 

Clus-a 2 D,/f t>3 

CLASS!' XXc. No 

(p(p 7 V / 

COPY 3. 


Copyrighted 1903 by 
Oren F. Morton. 



ARBOR LODGE SERIES 


I 

UNDER THE COTTONWOODS 

A SKETCH OF EIFE ON A PRAIRIE HOMESTEAD 

5x6^ inches— 318 pages— 2 illustrations— Price, $1.00. 

In whole and in part, in general and in detail, a correct and 
accurate picture of pioneer life on the prairies beyond the Missouri. 
— J. Sterling Morton, in the Conservative. 

Well written and the scenes are presented with force and inter- 
est. The story abounds in descriptions which reveal accurately 
the life and thought of the western settlers and also their courage 
and hardships. — Pittsburg Chronicle- Telegraph. 

II 

WINNING OR LOSING ? 

A STORY OF THE WEST VIRGINIA HlEES 

5x7 % inches— 365 pages — 7 illustrations — Price, $1.25. 

An interesting story and it tells of a fascinating country. — Pitts- 
burg Dispatch. 

It breathes of the soil of West Virginia. The author has dis- 
tinctly caught the atmosphere and environment. — Wheeling Intel- 
ligencer. 

LAND OF THE LAUREL 

A STORY OF THE AEEEGH4.NIES 

5x7j4 inches— 240 pages — 10 illustrations — Price, $1.00. 

IV 

AN IRONY OF FATE 

(In Preparation) 

Any of the above published books will be furnished postpaid on 
receipt of price by Oren F. Morton, Kingwood, W. Va. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

A Round-Log- Cabin 9 

A Hewn-Log Dwelling 41 

The Mill Pond 73 

A Store of the Olden Time 105 

The Farmhouse in the Glades 137 

An Old Water Mill 161 

The Brick Academy 185 

The Northwestern Bridge, Cheat River 209 

The Fairfax House 225 


PREFACE 


The purpose of this work is to preserve a portraiture 
of a phase of American life which has lingered long 
amid the Allegheny highlands. The survivors of the 
period in question are past the prime of life and the 
time will soon come when our knowledge of those 
interesting days can no longer be given us by word of 
mouth. 

A picture of a given era is best shown in a concrete 
study of some particular locality. While this circum- 
stance may invest the present story with a special 
interest to people living upon the immediate scene, the 
work is by no means designed as merely a local sketch. 

Grateful acknowledgement is here given to those 
elderly people who so cheerfully gave the recollections 
which helped to impart to the volume the desired 
degree of historical accuracy. Further credit is due 
to the local histories by Samuel T. Wiley and to 
“The Old Pike” by T. B. Searight. 

OREN F. MORTON 

Kingwood, W. Fh., 

Aug. 14 , KJOJ. 


TO WAIvTACE M. IvONGSTRETH, 

The friend who drew ray attention to 
the period forming the background of 
the present volume and who urged the 
writing of a story to illustrate the same. 


CONTENTS 


Page 

chapter 

Introduction 9 

I. The Log: Schoolhouse 19 

II. The Spelling Match 31 

III. A Mountain Home 38 

IV. A Logrolling $3 

V. The Voice of Ambition 59 

VI. A Widening Horizon 70 

VII. The Regimental Muster 83 

VIII. Pointing to a Star 90 

IX. At the County Seat 101 

X. The Cabin in Hacklebarney 120 

XI. A Universal Experience 134 

XII. A Succession of Incidents 144 

XIII. The Shadow of Slavery 155 

XIV. A Conquest 107 

XV. The Trail of the Serpent 171 

XVI. A Dark Hour 179 

XVII. An Evening’s Task 187 

XVIII. Moonlight on the Pike 193 

XIX. A Race in the Dark 210 

XX. The Coming of Sunshine 223 

XXI. A Husking Frolic 230 

XXII. Morning and Evening 237 


A ROUND-L,OG CABIN (Formerly a School House) Phot’d by C. S. Rexroad 



















































































































































. 



























































INTRODUCTION. 


V 

Europe reaches to the Alleghanies ; then begins America: — Em- 
erson. 

The year 1848 is an important milestone in Ameri- 
can history. It is marked by a striking- increase in 
territorial growth, and is the starting-point of an 
accelerated speed in the exploitation of our national 
resources. Invention, manufacture, and commerce 
now began to advance by leaps and bounds. The 
colonial stage of development had seen its day, and a 
New America was coming to the front. The fall of 
slavery was foreshadowed by an unconscious broad- 
ening of the democratic ideal. 

This awakening was not confined to the western 
shore of the Atlantic. In the same year Europe be- 
held a sudden and vigorous assertion of popular 
rights. There also it was a time of political unrest, 
intelleclual ferment, and industrial expansion. 
Throughout the truly civilized world economic forces 
of tremendous power were springing out of leash and 
the circle of their activity has been constantly widen- 
ing. From this whirlpool issued the genuine modern 
age. 

The populated America of the thirteen colonies 
was not a very broad belt along the Atlantic shore. 


10 


INTRODUCTION. 


Its ideals and traditions were British and in the very 
structure of society was an aristocratic leaning’. It 
was less a national divergence than a political exi- 
gency which caused the Declaration of Independence. 
During- the first war with the parent country this 
seaboard reg-ion was infested with British sympathiz- 
ers, and during- the struggle of 1812 the New Eng- 
land states did not very warmly resent the British 
insolence, which fell with heavy weight on their 
large foreign commerce. 

In the sixty years since the election of the first 
president, this original America was a hive out of 
which was an incessant swarming across the Alle- 
ghanies. A full third of the county’s population 
was in the twelve lusty commonwealths beyond the 
mountains. But the peopling of the great interior 
was not like the peopling of the seaboard. The vol- 
untary settlers of the latter region were a picked 
class of men. They expected to establish homes as 
comfortable as those they left behind. The same 
ocean which laved the coast of the British Isles also 
beat upon the colonial shore. Except in the matter 
of distance the American littoral was as easily 
reached as that of continental Europe. The civiliza- 
tion brought across the Atlantic could not well dete- 
riorate in its new soil. 

Yet the pioneer emigrant to the West had to lose 
all closeness of touch with the ocean highway and 
the transplanted Europe on the hither shore. He had 
to accept a primitive mode of life. The movement 
toward the setting sun could not make the tedious 


INTRODUCTION. 


11 


crossing- of the Alleghanies without passing under 
the shadow of the barbarian. Those were the days 
of buckskin and moccasin, rifle and axe, log cabin 
and puncheon floor. But the pioneer was not a peas- 
ant. He was a man of muscle, courage and ambi- 
tion. He might indeed rear an illiterate family, yet 
transmitted intellectual power could not long remain 
hidden. 

It was in this crucible of pioneer life that the real 
American was evolved. Social distinctions and time- 
honored traditions could not go through the temper- 
ing process unscathed. Bej^ond the mountains every 
man was as good as his neighbor, and his situation in 
life was much the same. While this newer America 
was democratic and self-reliant from the start, the 
older America remained until the war of ’61 sensi- 
tive to European criticism and subservient to Eu- 
ropean usage. 

In the two wars with Britain the Americanism of 
the trans-alleghany region was ardent and uncom- 
promising. It was here that Washington rested his 
hope of final victory. Napoleon Bonaparte read the 
writing on the wall, and he sold the rich province he 
could not hope to hold against the aggressive settler. 

It is the sons of the West who have made the Amer- • 
ica of to-day. The persistent advance of the Ameri- 
can flag beyond the Mississippi was inspired by the 
West, and it was often viewed by the men of the East 
with indifference and even opposition. 

Mountain ranges have always been geographic 
boundaries. The broad Appalachian system was 


12 


INTRODUCTION. 


found covered by dense and sombre forests. The 
narrow valle} r s between the intricate ridges were 
threaded by tumultuous torrents. In the rocky gorges 
were almost impenetrable thickets of laurel. Onty by 
means of the bridle path and the precarious wagon 
road could the tide of settlers pass through the wil- 
derness. 

But in the smooth plains beyond the rugged ram- 
part lay a network of navigable rivers uniting in the 
Mississippi. Trade seeks the channels of least resist- 
ance, and here was the only available outlet for the 
commerce of the West. A new and divergent nation 
was taking form in the vast interior. Sentiment alone 
was an ineffective means of overcoming the barrier 
which nature had uplifted between the Bast and the 
West. 

It thus became a matter of high public policy to 
subdue the Alleghanies with eas}^ commmercial high- 
ways, such as the practical Romans used to extend 
into each newly conquered province. The general 
government responded with the once famous National 
Road, and the state of Virginia with the Northwest- 
ern Pike. The location of the National Road was 
governed by the Potomac river. This stream crosses 
nearly the entire breadth of the Appalachian system 
and then afforded the easiest and best route' to the 
West. From Fort Duquesne the French had at- 
tempted to control this natural thoroughfare, and 
when they gave up that stronghold the fate of their 
American empire was sealed. The first railway to 
enter the western America followed the same course 


INTRODUCTION. 


13 


to the very foot of the dividing- ridg-e and then chose 
a more southward route only because of the opposi- 
tion of its macadamized rival. It is no mere coinci- 
dence that the westward progress of the center 
of population coincides with the latitude of the Poto- 
mac. This midland hig-hway was also a powerful 
factor in fixing- the capital of the nation on the bank 
of the same river. 

F rom the region between the Hudson and the capes 
of the Chesapeake came nearly all the early emigra- 
tion to the West. Two exceedingly important ele- 
ements of the American people contributed very little 
to this movement. The planters of the South, prefer- 
ring- a district where cotton could easily be grown 
and marketed, remained on the coastal slope, and the 
trend of their migration was to the southwest. New 
England was remote from the gateway in the Alle- 
ghanies and her people have always had greater 
esteem for trade and manufacture than for the agri- 
cultural development of new regions. Hence those 
descendents of the Puritans and Cavaliers who re- 
main in their original seats diverge most widely from 
the Western tj^pe of the American. But in the region 
indicated as the homeland of the Western settler 
there is a close approximation. 

At the time of the war with Mexico the imprint of 
the pioneer life was still very much in evidence in 
trans-alleghany America. In the manner of living 
there was plainness and even rudeness. But unlike 
the unambitious peasantry of Europe, the Western 
man kept his eye upon a star and was steadily reach- 


14 


INTRODUCTION. 


ing toward higher ideals. It was this raw, rude, vig- 
orous world, with its wonderful potentialities, which 
Dickens and other foreign observers viewed with a 
supercilious sneer. It was an echo of the selfsame 
sneer which made the people of the East slow to rec- 
ognize the greatness of Abraham Lincoln. They 
beheld a Nazareth in the Western backwoods, and 
were not prepared to see soldiers and statesmen of 
the first rank issuing from that quarter. But Ameri- 
ca is preeminent among nations because her unit of 
population is of superior order. It had remained for 
the West to lead in the growth of a distinctivly na- 
tional character. That section has won the political 
leadership of the Union, and in the realms of litera- 
ture, science and art it is pushing rapidly forward. 

Though the railroad and telegraph came in good 
time to win a complete triumph over the Alleghany 
barrier, they could no more than soften the divergence 
between the East and the West. The points of dif- 
ference are not on the surface. The East has never 
clearly understood the West. The former early as- 
sumed an air of condescension, and the latter at once 
retorted with a look of disdain. The Whiskey Insur- 
rection of 1794 has seldom been justty weighed. Yet 
it was a veiled threat of political independence on the 
part of the newer America, and it is significant that 
Washington, who understood the temper of the West, 
called out as large an arm3 T to put down the move- 
ment as he emplo} r ed in the capture of Cornwallis. 
The disruption of Virginia in 1861 had a much deeper 
cause than the simple question of adherence to the Un- 


INTRODUCTION. 


15 

ion. That state was almost equally divided by the 
Alleghany range and the ideals of the two sections 
were very discordant. 

In 1848 the American people were almost wholly of 
colonial descent. From 4,000,000 souls in 1790 they 
had now increased to more than 20,000,000. The rill 
of European immigration had only just begun to as- 
sume the proportions of a flood. But there was no 
wide commingling of the people of different states. 
The American traveled but little and he was provin- 
cial in thought. Cities were few and small. Farm 
life was everywhere dominant. The reign of labor- 
saving machinery was only in its morning dawn. 
The great factory had not yet reduced handicraft in 
the farmhouse and the village workshop to a question 
of little else than repair service. 

In land transportation the locomotive was not yet 
supreme. The 6,000 miles of railroad lay wholly east 
of the Alleghanies. The volume of imports had 
merety doubled in fifty years. So far from having 
yet become the granar3 T of Europe, there were im- 
portations of breadstuffs from the continent as re- 
cently as 1838. The jueld of the precious metals 
was onty $500,000 a year. It was not until the find- 
ing of gold in California that America began to have 
capital with which to follow an industrial as well as 
agricultural career. It was not until that epoch that 
the American began to lose provincialism. He did 
not hesitate now to go thousands of miles in quest of 
a new home. In every field of activity he acquired a 
daring which would scarce recognize any limit to his 
power of achievement. 


16 


INTRODUCTION. 


The America of 1848 has left its clearest mark 
in the Alleghany highlands. Nowhere else are the 
inhabitants more genuinely and typically American, 
and nowhere else may the old modes of life be more 
easily discerned. Yet certain writers, with less zeal 
for accuracy than for picturesque effect, have created a 
general impression that the denizens of Appalachia 
are degenerate and unprogressive. This idea pro- 
ceeds from very casual observation. There are in- 
deed worthless people in the mountains as well as in 
the slums of the cities. Of the refuse of Britain that 
was forcibly dumped upon the colonial coast, a por- 
tion of its posterity sought the fastnesses of the Alle- 
ghan} r wild. Yet it is a gross error to assume that 
such people constitute the dominant type of Appa- 
lacian America. The dweller in the mountain has 
the same traits as the rest of his fellows. The wil- 
derness environment has simply narrowed his oppor- 
tunity and retarded his pace. 

But the Arcadean uplands, with their mineral and 
forestral wealth, are fast being drawn into the busy 
whirl of the newer American life. The footprints of 
the old era are fast disappearing, and the privilege of 
drawing their portraiture at first hand will soon van- 
ish forever. 

The America of 1903 is very unlike the America of 
1848. The person whose lifetime includes this inter- 
val has witnessed a most profound economic revolu- 
tion, and its like may never again occur. The influ- 
ence of invention alone on our present modes of 
thinking and doing is incalculable. But we are as 


INTRODUCTION. 


17 


yet living- in a period of transition, and not until a 
generation has grown to maturity under the full sway 
of the newer forces can the latter be rightly esti- 
mated. 

The frontier stage in American development has 
, already passed into history. The romantic and pic- 
turesque features of the old West are fast becoming 
matters of tradition. With a practical annihila- 
tion of time and space, the East and the West are be- 
coming assimilated. A new industrial life, an enor- 
mous foreign immigration, and other factors of very 
great moment have created a New America. 

It is never wise to ignore the teachings of history. 
Pioneer days are endowed with life and color, char- 
acter and energy, interest and freshness. The sim- 
ple, laborious lives of those who were actors in the 
drama of everyday toil at the dawn of the new era 
are not calculated to inspire views of conduct which 
are morbid and blase. 

It was the nascent New America which astonished 
the world with its latent power in the arts of peace. 
It was her sturdy sons who displayed the most signal 
valor and fortitude while fighting under the banners 
of Grant and Lee. Never were combatants more 
earnest, sincere and determined, and never the par- 
ties to a domestic war so fully reconciled with its 
result. 







A WEST VIRGINIA SCENE 


\ 


% 


% 


• • 






LAND OF THE LAUREL. 

I 


THE EOG SCHOOLHOUSE. 

Act well at the moment and you have 
Performed a good action to all eternity. 

— Lavater. 

“Frank, see me knock that cap off’n his head.” 

“Better not, Kzra, he can throw something- harder’n 
that thing-.” 

Ezra Sheres toyed with a snowball he was knead- 
ing- between his hands. He was a tall, ung-ainly 
youth and his picture would never have been displa} T ed 
in a photographic g-allery for the purpose of drawing- 
custom. But the photographer was not abroad in the 
highlands of Virginia in the opening days of March, 
1848. 

Below the wide-open, prominent, pale blue eyes 
there extended a hooked nose of absurd proportions, 
while lower down was an ever open mouth, encom- 
passed by thick, flaring red lips. This feature of his 
face was likened by his acquaintances to the orifice of 
a molasses jug. When his fur cap was off there 
appeared a tangled mass of reddish hair seemingly 
held in place by ears standing at almost a right angle 
to his head. An irritable impulsiveness and a lack 
of moral poise were unmistakably written on the 
uncomely face. 


20 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


Frank Colbert was an opposite in almost every way 
save that of figure alone. But though tall and spare 
he was well proportioned. Smooth, dark locks 
appeared below his cap and his dark eyes were bright, 
lively and kindl}^. His complexion was clear, his 
features were good, and his countenance was prepos- 
sessing. 

Moving down the beaten path was a shabbil) r dressed 
man with a crouching figure and a plodding gait. 
Under his arm he carried a short rifle, the muzzle 
pointing downward. 

“What do we care for him ?” blurted Kzra. “He 
don’t b’ong round our settlement.” 

“That’s no reason for using him ill,” rejoined the 
less impetuous and more prudent Frank. 

As the stranger drew nearer it was seen that his 
strongl} r marked face was not handsome and that it 
was now rendered all the less so by a fortnight’s thin 
growth of course, dark stubble beard. The open gray 
eyes might be reckoned observant, but to the casual 
glance the general features did not seem particularly 
intelligent. His age was about thirty-five. 

“ How’are you, old man ? ” exclaimed Kzra, flinging 
his ball against the trunk of a maple thirty paces 
away. 

“How do you do ? ” added Frank in a tone of respect 
and cordiality. 

Though Frank omitted the complimentar}" “sir,” in 
accordance with local custom, there was nevertheless 
a world of difference in the spirit of these greetings. If 
the stranger drew any deductions as to the character 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


21 


of the two boys he did not manifest the least sign of 
doing so. Yet the sequel may tell a different story. 

“Good day, young men,” returned the stranger in 
a rather lifeless tone. “The Mongerhele river is 
somewheres nigh here, ain’t it ? ” 

“Haw, no,” scoffed Exra, nearly taking the words 
out of the stranger’s mouth. “You mean the Cheat. 
That’s down under them hills to the left. It’s a right 
sharp walk over the mountain to the Mongerhele.” 

“Excuse me, I didn’t know,” muttered the man, 
nodding his head. “Could I get on to Morton’s Mill 
in an hour from this ? ” 

“You mean Bruceton, they call it now,” snapped 
Ezra. “Old Billy Morton that used to run the mill is 
dead and gone. Hour? H’m, wiry, he can’t get there 
in two, can he, Frank ? ” 

“No, not as deep as the snow is. People call it 
eight miles.” 

“Where might I get to stay here in this settlement?” 
now asked the man. “I don’t care to walk any more 
today.” 

“You can come to our house,” replied Frank. “It’s 
a mile from here, though. Wouldn’t you like to come 
in the schoolhouse and rest by the fire ? When school 
lets out you can go home with Oscar and the girls. 
I am going to stay and help rid up the room. We 
have a spelling match tonight. Better come out.” 

“Well,” remarked the stranger, “I’ll go in and wait. 
Is it recess ? I don’t see nobody else out, but them 
two boys that is taking in wood.” 


22 IyAND OF THF FAURKF. 

> 

“The master is different from most every other 
one,” explained Frank. “He’s an Englishman. He 
sometimes lets us out in squads.” 

The two boys were now leading the way to the 
schoolhouse, which stood in a small clearing and near 
a dimly defined road. No other building whatever 
was in sight. Except for the clearing the uneven 
vicinity was covered by a hardwood forest. 

Eet us look a moment on the outside of the house, 
for it was a fair specimen of the country school build- 
ings in this region. The humble concern was built of 
hewn logs, the spaces being chinked with stones and 
chips and daubed with reddish-yellow clay. The roof 
was of clapboards, warped, splintered, and very 
weather-beaten. Built against one gable was a broad, 
unsymmetrical chimnej^ of rough stones, in all sizes 
and shapes. It was constructed with no more grace 
than the stone heaps which might be seen in the 
cleared fields. The top barely projected above the 
roof and seemed to have a repulsion for the latter, 
inasmuch as it leaned outward to a very noticeable 
degree. In the other end was a broad door of undressed 
plank, and dangling through a hole was a deerskin 
thong to raise the latch. In a staple on the door 
frame was a closed padlock. In the side of the house 
was a twelve-light window set horizontally. 

Ezra Sheres went in first and as soon as Frank 
had followed, the teacher appeared in the doorway. 
He was a man of middle age; large, dark and grim. 
Like the stranger he carried a weapon in one hand, 
and though less formidable it was even^more ready for 


LAND OF THK LAURFL. 


23 


service. In other words it was a long- black rule held 
in a position for instantaneous application at close 
quarters. 

“Your name, sir”? gruffly demanded the despot. 

“Hoover, they call me; Seth Hoover. If you please 
I will rest until school is out.” 

“Hand mine is Billson,” replied the Englishman, 
inadvertentl} r misusing- the eig-hth letter of the 
alphabet. “ Hall rig-ht, sir. Walk inside. You can 
sit on that stool up near the fire.” 

As the pedagogue motioned toward the rough-made 
piece of furniture, his watchful eye, apparently tak- 
ing in what was going on directly in his rear, now 
alighted upon a half-grown boy whose countenance 
fell with as rapid speed as the teacher’s glance. With- 
out a word the man seized him by the collar, jerked 
him to his feet, shook him as a terrier does a rat, then 
doubled him over his knee, and finished the disciplin- 
ary process b} r a sound spanking with the ruler. 

With no seeming attention to the pupils or to the 
swish of the rod of authorit} r , the stranger crossed the 
room and stood his gun in a corner, taking care that 
the stock rested in a hollow in the floor. The presence 
of the rifle was of no particular moment in the eyes 
of either teacher or pupils, since every man in that 

,N 

thinly settled mountain wild was supposed to own a 
firearm and sometimes to need it in a possible ren- 
counter with predatory animals. Hoover then occu- 
pied the stool and seemed more interested in drying 
his footwear than in anything else. He wore rough 


24 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


boots without covering-, arctic overshoes not then being- 
in use. 

“I will go right on with the school,” remarked Bill- 
son with a side glance toward the visitor. 

“ Certainly, certainly,” was the low response accom- 
panied with a slight wave of the hand. 

But whether or not Hoover vras taking any special 
notice of the room, we shall describe what he might 
have seen. 

The interior of the house was none too large for the 
thirty pupils who sat on benches of plank or puncheon 
supported by pins driven into auger holes. None of 
these benches had backs, excepting the two appropri- 
ated by the youngest children. Yet to counterbalance 
this item of comfort, the seats were so high that the 
small pupils could not rest their feet on the floor. At 
each side of the room was a sloping desk made of two 
boards placed on pegs driven into auger holes in the 
wall. There was no blackboard nor any map, chart, 
or picture. On the dingy walls were nothing but 
caps, shawls, and other wraps. In the front of the 
room were the dinner baskets, sometimes having the 
capacity of a peck. No other kind of receptacle was 
used for this purpose. On the other side of the fire- 
place from the visitor was an armful of wood, so that 
the backlog might be encouraged to do its best. The 
floor was of puncheons, trimmed with the axe until 
they formed a comparative level. The teacher had a 
homemade chair with sloping back, but there was no 
desk, and he appeared to use his scepter more than his 
throne. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL- 


25 


The pupils, who were of all ages from eight to 
eighteen, were clad in linsey. Their hand-sewed gar- 
ments were made at home from cloth woven at home. 
The prevailing- color was butternut gray, but stripes 
of red, blue or green appeared on the dresses of some 
of the girls. A slate and a homemade copybook, 
with ink bottle and quill pen, and three dogeared 
volumes — arithmetic, reader and speller — formed the 
equipment of the pupils. Of these books the mightiest 
was the arithmetic, and it absorbed the greater share 
of the teacher’s time. But there were no classes in 
this branch, the instruction being individual. The 
morning session was opened with a selection from 
the New Testament, each pupil reading a verse, and 
the majority doing it in a manner suggestive of a 
cart bumping over a rough road. 

The room was but moderately quiet. The older 
pupils had once been accustomed to learning their 
lessons aloud, and as the habit was hard to suppress, 
there was a constant buzz of lesson learning and sur- 
reptitious whispering, intermingled with the scratch- 
ing sound of a score of pencils. 

“Silas, what means that snickering?” demanded 
Billson frowning portentously on a small boy. 

“Keziah Thistle been making snoots at me,” was 
the response. 

“Deed’n double I wasn’t,” protested the accused 
girl. 

“Silas, you imagined that,” declared the monarch. 
“You are like Adam, who laid all the blame on Eve. 
Turn the other way, sir.” 


26 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


And the ruler descended on one of the boy’s phreno- 
logical organs. 

“Jesse, is } r our task done yet ? ” 

“ There’s this sum I can’t get,” replied a well grown 
boy, whirling his arithmetic about and laying his 
index finger on an example. 

“Please, ma} r I get a drink?” asked a smaller bo}^ 
as the teacher moved toward the pupil who had asked 
assistance. 

The boy walked with an awkward noisy gait for 
the drink, of which he stood in no special need. Not 
emptying quite all the contents of the gourd into his 
mouth, he turned the residue upon the head of one of 
the larger girls. The teacher was then bending over 
the pupil in arithmetic. 

“Now the writing task,” announced Billson, as he 
returned toward the fire and swept his eye over the 
room. He observed the girl brushing water from her 
hair. 

“ Keturah,” he sharply demanded, “ has that grace- 
less scamp been wetting yon ? ” 

“I expect so.” 

“Wash, come here, sir.” 

George Washington Thistle came forward, and 
through force of habit extended the palm of his right 
hand. Whack, whack, whack, came the blows of the 
correcting weapon with sufficient force to make the 
culprit squirm. He went back to his bench with 
smarting hand, but with the triumphant knowledge 
that it had been made to smart every day that 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


27 


week. And he also knew he would receive a second 
chastisement from Keturah. 

“Please, master, will you mend my pen ?” asked a 
small sister of the girl with moistened hair. 

Although the pen ought to have been presented ear- 
lier, the owner was well behaved, and instead of biting 
her head off, the teacher produced his penknife and 
sharpened the quill. 

The writing pupils had meanwhile arranged them- 
selves along the two desks, and with their home- 
made ink and goose and turkey quill pens they began 
to scrawl on the lines ruled b}^ the teacher, imitations 
of the copies he had set for them during the noon 
recess. 

But amid these varied scenes it is not to be sup- 
posed that the man by the fire failed to command a 
liberal share of the attention of every pupil. There 
was not a scholar who did not stare at him for min- 
utes at a time, especially when the monarch was not 
likely to observe this form of diversion. A stranger 
in the neighborhood, and especially in the school 
room, was a noteworthy event and the subject of no 
little comment and speculation. 

Yet these looks of curiosity did not seem to make 
the least difference with the stranger. At intervals 
his eyes would move slowty about the room with real 
or assumed carelessness, and at other intervals his 
moving jaws would emit a discharge of saliva upon 
the backlog. Frank very naturally assumed that he 
was chewing tobacco. Yet he never afterward saw 
the man with tobacco in his hand or knew him to 


28 


LAND OF THF LAURFL- 


expectorate tobacco juice. From time to time his 
pencil would travel over a strip of pasteboard lying 
on his knee. Ezra, the tall boy with the jug-mouth, 
thought this pencil work was idle scribbling. The 
more discerning Frank was studious and for a while 
he took little notice of the man by the fire. At first 
he deemed Hoover a commonplace and very uninterest- 
ing person. But with further observation there came 
an indefinable feeling that he had underrated the 
stranger. He believed the visitor was taking notes. 
But for what purpose could the unkempt man be 
doing such a thing? 

In an hour and a half the school day came to an 
end. The final spelling class had been sent back in 
displeasure from toeing the chalk-line before the fire- 
place. 

“O, you dumb skulls,” grumbled the teacher. “To 
make such bad work on an easy task. I ought to 
keep you in and whip every last one. Keturah, 
remember I shall come to your house tonight to board 
with your people till the last day of school — next Fri- 
day. And when } r ou all go home, don’t forget to 
speak of the quilting part} r at Mrs. Nimrod Thistle’s 
on Tuesday. Better take } r our books and slates all 
home, for there is to be a spelling match tonight.” 

Immediately after the dismissal, and while the boys 
were putting on their scarfs and rabbit-skin caps, and 
the girls their comforters or quilted sunbonnets, Frank 
Colbert led a twelve-year-old boy to the man at the 
fireplace. 

“Oscar,” said the youth, “} r ou take this man over 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


29 


home. He’s going- to stay with us. Coming back to 
the spelling, mister ? ” 

“Yes, I’ll come out. Now I’ll go to your house for 
tonight, but perhaps I might get my supper a little 
nigher. Then I want to put my gun some place.” 

“You can have supper with Caleb Sidwell,” sug- 
gested Billson. “It is on the way to Colbert’s, and not 
a quarter of a mile from here.” 

“You can take him to Caleb’s,” said Frank to his 
brother. “ And if he don’t care yon can carry his gun 
on home, so he’ll have no further trouble with it.” 

“You will find the Colberts very fine people,” added 
the teacher. “Frank is a good boy: a gentleman. 
He is far and away the best pupil I have, and I give 
him a special opportunity.” 

The inscrutable face of the stranger appeared to 
soften a little as he replied: “Yes, I took notice he 
seemed a very civil boy.” 

By degrees the room became clear, save for the 
teacher and his best pupil, and the loud, rude voice of 
Ezra Sheres was heard only in the distance. 

And thus closed a day in a type of school that sur- 
vived longer in the Alleghanies than elsewhere in 
our land, yet which was general in America within 
the memory of people still living. We of to-day re- 
gard those schools with a pity not altogether called 
for. We deem their instruction inadequate, and so it 
was. Yet it was intensely practical. There were no 
dozen or fifteen separate lines of study to encroach 
on time needed for recreation, and there were no 
branches which on the part of either patron or pupil 


30 


xand of thf LAURFIv. 


incurred the suspicion of being- ornamental rather 
than useful. The more wideawake pupils did not see 
enoug-h books of any kind to make them surfeited. 
The schoolroom did not breed pale faces and near- 
sighted eyes, neither did the roaring fireplace per- 
mit much accumulation of bad air. The very mea- 
greness of the equipment developed resourcefulness 
on the part of the pupil. Kvery imaginable conven- 
ience had not been put in his way to drain the fount- 
ain of his self-reliance. Despite their imperfections 
those schools inspired the sturdy American manhood 
that was tried and not found wanting on the thous- 
and battlefields of the civil war. 


II 


THE SPELLING MATCH. 

The curious questioning eye, 

That plucks the heart of every mystery. 

— Mellen. 

“Well, Frank,” said Billson, “now we’ll g-et to 
work, I think you may sweep while I move the 
benches. Then we will take down the writing- desks 
so we can have more room for the crowd.” 

“What did j r ou think of that man?” inquired 
Frank as he beg-an g-oing- over the uneven floor with 
a roug-h looking- splint broom. 

“ I did not see much in him,” replied Billson, with 
an ung-uarded lapse into his foreigm pronunciation. 

The pupil had drawn out his teacher’s opinion and 
he soug-ht nothing- more along- this line. 

“Frank,” said Billson, after a short silence, “I 
shall not teach this school ag-ain, and if you are like 
other big- boys you will not attend here any more.” 

“It wouldn’t do me any g-ood if I did,” was the 
prompt repl} r . “You are much the best teacher I 
ever had, and it would be no use to g-o to any more 
such ones as I’ve been to before now. Nobody but 
me had ever studied g-eography and grammar here 
that I ever heard tell of, and you’ve taken me lots 
further in arithmetic than I ever went before, and 
explained thing's so I understand them. Our other 
teachers would hardly explain principles at all.” 

“You could make a surveyor or an engineer,” 
asserted Billson. “That’s the way your mind runs. 


32 


BAND OF THF BAURBB. 


While I was boarding- round I wish I had come to ) T our 
house the first thing- instead of near the very end of 
the term. I mig-ht have helped you more.” 

“You have a fine education,” remarked the pupil. 

“Yes, back in Hold Hengland I studied the human- 
ities — Latin and Greek. O, I have a great deal bet- 
ter heducation than I need for a school like this.” 

“It don’t hurt anything- thoug-h,” was Frank’s 
shrewd observation. 

“Hit is a help sometimes; possibly paj^s in the 
hend,” remarked the man in a tone' sug-g-estive of past 
disappointments. 

“ I wonder how 3 r ou ever happened to come into our 
county here,” exclaimed the helper. 

By the word “country,” Frank referred merely to 
the little world around the schoolhouse, with which 
he was personally familiar. 

“Well,” replied Billson, “people g-et thrown around 
curiousl) r sometimes. They can’t alwa} T s tell just 
how it does happen.” 

“I would like some more g-ood schooling-,” declared 
Frank. “But I don’t just know how it’s g-oing- to 
come. Father can’t send me away to school very 
well and there’s not much chance to earn ready money 
round here.” 

“There’s little money- in circulation,” asserted Bill- 
son. “What money there is has to move around 
right lively. Well, look, always keep looking, and 
I hope a way will appear. I want to see 3 r ou come 
on and I onty wish I were better able to direct 3-ou.” 

The grim teacher had been unwontedly confidential 


L.AND OF THE EAUREE. 33 

and communicative. Such words were never lost on 
a pupil like Frank. 

The room put to rights, Frank trudged over a rise 
of ground to the dwelling- of Caleb Sidwell. The log 
cabin was representative of the poorer class of homes 
in the neighborhood, but there was so close a resem- 
blance to the schoolhouse that little special descrip- 
tion is necessary. It contained one not very large 
room, aside from the low loft reached by a ladder. 
Two small half windows did not permit the dark- 
hued apartment to look very bright. There was an 
ample fireplace, but no stove, and the few cooking- 
utensils when not in use were hung by hooks to a 
chain that dangled from the trammel pole extending 
across the room above the fireplace. The scanty 
furniture had been made with two or three hand tools. 
Some observers would declare the quality of the 
housekeeping to be on a par with the ding}", weather 
beaten hut, but an old log cabin with a single-room 
is not conducive to refinement in domestic economy. 

As Frank entered, without the ceremony of knock- 
ing, the family of eight persons and the guest were 
sitting down to a meal limited to corn bread, roast 
bear meat, and thyme tea. 

“Hullo, Frank,” said the host, a man of thirty- 
five. “You’re just in time. Alwa}^s room for one 
more. Here, Jimmy, just move this way a bit, so 
Frank can sit up.” 

The housekeeper was already going after a knife 
and a pewter plate. 

“No, I had a bite left over from dinner,” remons- 
strated Frank moving toward the fire. 


34 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“ Mighty slim one, I know. Here, just set up and 
have some of our bear meat.” 

“The caller then insinuated himself between two 
of the farmer’s boys and formed the tenth member at 
the board. Sidewell now directed the conversation 
toward him rather than the stranger. 

“I see the } r oung man is going right back, and I’ll 
walk with him,” observed Hoover at the close of the 
meal. 

“Better come here after the spelling and stay with 
us, if you can put up with our accommodations,” 
remarked Sidwell. 

“That’s all right, only I promised Frank to go 
with him. But then I thank you just as much,” 
replied the stranger. 

“Yes, I asked him, Caleb. And then Oscar took 
his gun to our house,” added Frank. 

“Colbert’s a good place to go, only }^ou are just as 
welcome with us,” concluded the head of the family. 

Hoover was not talkative during the return to the 
schoolhouse and his few remarks were upon the roads 
of the vicinity. He did not appear to Frank quite 
like the men he was used to seeing, and the 3 r outh 
was still at a loss to know what to make of him. 
Only on one point did he feel clear. He was convinced 
that Hoover was more intelligent than he seemed. 

Late hours were not common among these country 
folk, and soon after dusk the people of the neighbor- 
hood began to assemble in the schoolhouse. It was 
not long before the room was crowded to its full capac- 
ity. The people came in their everyday attire, which 


land of the laurel. 


35 


was sometimes the best garb at their command. Sev- 
eral pine knots, fat with pitch, had been carefully 
treasured for the event, and with their aid the room 
was fairly well lighted from the fireplace alone. A 
tin lantern with perforated sides and open door hung 
on a peg near the entrance to the room, but the tal- 
low candle was a feeble help to the blazing knots. 

Seth Hoover maintained the taciturnity and the 
stealthiness of observation which he had displayed 
during the afternoon. Those who sat near did not 
find him very interesting to converse with, and except 
in the mere fact of being a stranger he did not attract 
much notice. 

It was quite otherwise with another arrival. He 
was a man of no more than average height, but his 
frame was well knit. Without being positively hand- 
some, his features were regular, and had there been a 
more frank expression in the dark hazel eyes, his 
countenance would have had a prepossessing air. 
Yet the look of cunning which lurked in the con- 
tracted orbs was considerably masked by a ver}- osten- 
tations affabilit}". 

“Hullo, now, here’s Peppermint John Galwix,” 
exclaimed a j^oung man. “Didn’t know you’s in the 
settlement.” 

“Yes, it’s Peppermint John,” was the prompt reply 
in a very hail-fellow tone. “How are you, Si. How 
are ) r ou, Jack. And how are you, Mistress Thistle. 
Glad to see you all. Seems like old times to get back 
once more.” 

During at least ten minutes Mr. Galwix was circu- 


36 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


lating nimbly about the room, shaking hands right 
and left, and having a word for every one, his features 
never once relaxing from an expansive smile. After 
giving Hoover’s hand a perfunctory pressure, he 
seated himself by a grown girl and proceeded to act 
the gallant. Frank observed that the stranger very 
soon changed his position, so that he could scrutinize 
the newcomer’s face without being himself much 
noticed. 

“Now let the spelling begin,” said Billson in a 
tone loud enough to be heard above the babel of 
voices. “I appoint as captains, Salathiel Clink and 
Frank Colbert. Take places and choose up. Let us 
have order.” 

The hum of voices rose again, but dimished little 
by' little as each raw, awkward, loud-voiced swain 
was torn from the side of his best girl to take a place 
in the gawky row that was forming on either side of 
the room. Galwix was the first choice of Salathiel 
Clink and he took position very prompt^. 

“Will you spell, Mr. Hoover,” asked Frank. 

“Yes, I will take part, though I’m not much when 
it comes to books,” responded the man as he rose and 
walked in a lumbering manner to the line. 

But while Galwix proved a very good speller, 
Hoover was far from being a verj^ near second. He 
failed on the first word during the opening round and 
on his third word during the second. 

“Juice.” 

It was the voice of Billson as he read the word from 
the speller by the light of a candle held in his left 


LAND OP THD LAUREL. 


37 


hand. The word had been misspelled on the other 
side of the room and it now came to Hoover. 

The stranger hesistated a moment and rubbed his 
chin. 

“J-u-s-e.” 

There were a few murmurs of disgust as Hoover 
took his seat, but Frank’s column included a majority 
of the good spellers and it won the honor of the even- 
ing-. 

It was at least half an hour after the close of the 
contest before the last one of the crowd had left the 
room. 

“Going home with me, Peppermint John ? ” inquired 
Clink. 

“ How are you here ? ” 

“Sled.” 

“That suits me. Yes, I’ll go along.” 

And John Galwix wedged himself into the crowded 
sled between two of Clink’s sisters, while Seth Hoover 
walked away in the moonlight by the side of Frank 
Colbert. Several horsemen rode past each with a 
girl seated behind. 



Ill 


A MOUNTAIN HOME. 

’T is a common proof 

That lowliness is young ambition’s ladder. 

— Shakespeare. 

The night being clear and the moon but a few days 
past her full, the objects of the landscape stood out 
in very plain relief. In twenty minutes the Colbert 
delegation with Hoover in their wake came to a large 
substantial log house with internal chimne} r s of hewn 
stone. Windows were few and as was generally the 
case in the day the panes of glass were very small. 

The party entered the long, commodious kitchen, 
which was likewise the most important room of the 
house, and the one serving the greatest variet} 7 of pur- 
poses. In each end was an exit to the open air. The strap 
hinges, made at some local forge, ran nearly the width 
of these doors. An unpainted board partition separ- 
ated the room from the two apartments adjoining. 
Elsewhere the whitewashed log walls were in full 
view. The huge fireplace was capable of holding a 
piece of timber seven feet in length. A general mis- 
cellany of household utensils, coats, caps and other 
articles appeared on the walls, and resting on sup- 
ports nailed to the joists were a large-barreled flintlock 
rifle and an old cavalry sword. A large powder horn 
with various designs etched upon it dangled from an 
end of one of the supports. Above the fireplace were 
the spreading antlers of a deer. 

The owner of the house was reading a newspaper 
by the light of a tallow candle. He was a man of 


LAND OF THH LAUREL. 


39 


not less than fort} T -five } r ears, tall and well made, and 
possessed of a thick shock of dark hair not y-et touched 
with gray. As was the prevailing- fashion in the 
middle of the last century, he wore no beard what- 
ever. His face was intelligent and bore the imprint 
of an open-hearted manliness. 

The paper he was reading- was one of the leading- 
journals of the land, yet it was conspicuously unlike 
its representative of todaj^. There were only four 
pag-es and the columns were broad. There were no 
scare heads and no displayed advertising-. The news 
given was larg-ely from its own section of the union. 
Foreign news was almost wholly absent. 

“Dad, I broug-ht this man home to stay over nig-ht. 
Oscar took his gmn on ahead. It is Mr. Hoover.” 

“That’s all right, of course. Glad to see }nu,” 
replied Joseph Colbert, laying- down his paper and 
stretching- out his leg’s. “Sit up by the fire, and g-et 
a g-ood warm before }^ou g-o to bed. Everybody else 
has laid down but me. Don’t live very nigh here, 
perhaps. 

“No, I- belong out in Ohio county,” replied the 
guest. 

“Ain’t that where Wheeling is ? ” 

“Yes, that’s our county seat.” 

“How’d you happen to get up in these mountains? ” 
pursued Colbert. 

This query was a local custom and not considered 
impertinent. 

“ I went out to Illinois and then I was down in the 
South,” explained Hoover. “I got ague in me and 


40 


LAND OF THK LAURFL. 


the doctors said I could get rid of it quicker if I come 
up to these hills a few months. The ague is broke 
and I am trying to build myself up.” 

“I’ve heard tell of ague,” remarked Colbert. 
“Must be a powerful bad thing. People never have 
it here.” 

“I can’t work very hard yet,” continued Hoover. 
“So I am roughing it a little.” 

‘ ‘We treat people white, ” declared the farmer. “You 
can stay round this settlement a month if you want 
to. Well, the clock says it’s late, and when you get 
warmed out you may feel like laying down. Frank 
will show you up.” 

“I’m not cold and I believe I will go now. I 
don’t see a clock in every house.” 

“They was a scarce article until ven^ recent; two 
or three years ago they cost twenty or twenty-five 
dollars. I got this one for five. Well, good night.” 

“Good night.” 

Frank and Oscar led the way to a low chamber con- 
taining two nine-light windows, the sashes being of 
unequal size. The room was used for stowing away 
articles as well as for sleeping, but otherwise it w~as 
very bare. 

“You may take the other bed, Mister,” said 
Frank. “This is the room we boys sleep in.” 

And presently sinking into the folds of a feather 
tick, the stranger sought repose for the night. 

When he reappeared in the kitchen the breakfast 
preparations were well under way. Scattered about 
the room were eight boys and girls of assorted sizes. 


A HEWN-L,OG DWEWNG Phot'd by P. B. Martin. 







LAND OF THH LAURFL. 


41 


The housewife was of rather g-enerous proportions 
and very matronly in appearance. Her sex is credited 
with more loquacity than the other, but like the maj- 
ont)- of her class in this region, Mrs. Colbert was 
not talkative before strang-ers. She seldom spoke 
save when she deemed it necessary, and her words 
were few and to the point. Her oldest daug-hters 
were likewise as mute as clams. According- to local 
usag-e the social entertainment of the strang-er fell 
upon the head of the family and he was entirety equal 
to the occasion. If a host were a man of some curi- 
osity and intelligence, he welcomed a distant guest as 
a means of g-aining- a glimpse into the outer world. 
And even if the members of his household kept 
silence, the} 7 - were likely to be g-ood listeners, and to 
treasure up what they heard the strang-er say. He 
was thus considered as giving- an ample return for the 
hospitality shown him. 

The long-, narrow table was spread with a cloth 
which mig-ht have been somewhat cleaner, especially 
in places, but this was not felt to be a shortcoming- 
worth}^ of mention. A cloth of immaculate white- 
ness would have seemed out of place. The subduing- 
of the wilderness is a work very matter-of-fact and 
prosaic. The eleg-ancies of the old community are 
felt to be handicaps in the evolution of the new, yet 
their comparative absence does not imply an indiffer- 
ence to them. 

The tableware consisted of blue-bordered china 
plates, knives and forks with wooden handles, if per- 
chance the wood had not fallen off, mug-s to eke out 


42 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


a deficiency of cups and saucers, an earthen dish for 
the ham, eggs, and gravy and a smaller one for maple 
syrup. An earthen coffee pot was singing on a bed 
of coals. Buckwheat griddle cakes, were being fried 
and the fluid adjuncts of the breakfast were rye coffee 
and milk. The ham was not the sugar-cured count- 
erfeit of our own advanced age, and there was no 
preliminary dish of “breakfast food,” suggestive of 
shavings, sawdust, or fine gravel, and requiring 
gaudily printed packages and lavish advertising to 
impress the consumer with the alleged virtues of the 
new hygienic fad. 

The farmer and his guest and the two older sons 
took seats at the table, while the 3 T ounger children 
stood at their places. Following a custom handed 
down from still earlier da3 r s, the wife and her older 
daughters waited until the masculines had withdrawn, 
but it kept two of them busy in preparing the griddle 
cakes fast enough. 

“These are not all 3^our famiL"?” suggested 
Hoover with a hint of irony. 

“O no,” laughed the man of the house. “We lost 
the oldest and 3 T oungest. There’s ten left; seven bo3 T s 
and three girls — Job’s number. Smith, our oldest 
bo3 r , married Elsie Linton last June, and he lives just 
over yon hill. Ashbel, the next one, is working at 
my brother’s, down on Laurel run. Frank is the big- 
gest one left at home. Next to him is them two big- 
ger girls, Ruth and Orpha. Then comes Oscar, Ma3^, 
George, Preston and Rufus.” 

“ Stranger,” said the farmer when he had finished 


LAND OF THK LAURFL. 


43 


his meal, “just make yourself contented by the fire 
while Frank and me does the feeding-. We’ll be in 
after a little bit. You can’t g-et down to the mill. 
Snow’s falling- ag-ain. Mig-ht as well lay over Sun- 
day with us.” 

“Don’t care if I do, under the circumstances,” 
replied Hoover. “ But I will g-o out with }^ou and see 
your stock. I am not used to sitting- in the house all 
day at a time and I’ll have to stretch myself.” 

The farmer and his son drew on their homemade 
g-loves of buckskin which had been tanned with the 
brains of animals, and the guest followed to the yard 
where the cattle and sheep were penned. In the log 
barn above was the meager outfit of farming imple- 
ments. Nothing possessed wheels except the country 
built wagon, and the metal work of the hand tools 
had been done at some mountain forge. 

The flakes were coming down at an increasing rate 
when the men sought the comfortable vicinitj^ of the 
yawning fireplace. The kitchen had been put in 
order, and through an open door issued the noise of a 
loom, as the housewife wove a fresh supply of linen 
for summer wear. Four yards would be her product 
for the day. The hand loom was once exceedingly com- 
mon in these mountain valleys, but the few that now 
remain are used only for the weaving of rag carpets. 
Homemade linen has become an extinct industry, and 
a field of flax is no longer visible. 

“Round the fire is the best place today,” said Frank, 
with his good humored laugh, as he stood rubbing his 
knuckles before the blazing logs. 


44 


LAND OF THF IvAURFF. 


Now would be the opportunit}^ of the day to see 
whether the visitor could keep up his end of a conver- 
sation. The stranger had said he had been in far- 
away states, and Frank was always eager to learn 
something new. The youth believed Hoover had a 
reserve power which would yet manifest itself, and 
while listening intentty to the talk which sprang up 
between the two men, he was not unprepared to see 
Hoover’s countenance take on a less vacant expression 
than it had hitherto worn. But if the guest had 
unbent, it was because he saw fit to do so. 

“Hoover,” remarked the host, “} r ou’ve been around 
some and know what’s going on. Have you heard 
whether this war with Mexico is clean over with yet ? 
I take the Richmond Whig and my neighbor, Thistle, 
takes the Baltimore Sun. The paper I was looking 
over last night is mighty nigh two weeks old. It is 
eight miles to the postoffice, and we don’t get our mail 
anywa3 r s regular.” 

“ I have the news up to Wednesda} r ,” replied Hoover. 
“ They were arranging the terms of peace down at 
Mexico Citj^. It wasn’t known whether the treaty 
has been signed yet, but it will be.” 

“And what will it give us ? ” 

“All Texas of course, and that California country 
we took possession of last year. It is an immense 
region; nearly as large as that Louisiana purchase, 
which doubled the size of the United States.” 

“That’s what I like to see,” exclaimed Colbert, his 
eyes kindling. “I want to see these United States 
reach to where they was intended to go. The old 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


45 


colony charters most all called for their west bounds 
to run to the South Sea. But do you suppose that 
country out there is good for anything ? ” 

“ I think it is. Our American people will very soon 
find out. We are not like the Mexicans. I know 
what them people is. I was in Taylor’s army till 
just after Buena Vista. Got a wound there — not a 
bad one — but I was sent home.” 

Hoover had now grown into a hero in the mind of 
his younger listener. 

“Didn’t you warp them low-lived Mexicans good!” 
exclaimed Colbert. “And they deserved it if a peo- 
ple ever did. They was just harming and murdering 
the Americans they invited into Texas, and when 
they found they couldn’t overcome them, thej^ was 
too contemptibly proud to see them come to us. 
Reckon they" got some sense drove into them. And 
there’s the Columbia river country we got a full claim 
to year before last. O, this is a great Union.” 

“And it would be a still greater one if the presi- 
dent had shown more backbone in dealing with Eng- 
land, ” added Hoover. “We had a clear title to the 
whole of that Oregon county from the discoveries of 
Captain Gregg and also Lewis and Clark’s exploration. 
I can’t forgive Polk for giving up half of it. It will 
show up to be a mistake some day.” 

“That’s my opinion,” asserted Colbert. “Polk did 
not see the matter as Marcus Whitman did. I read 
the account of his ride to Washington. Three thous- 
and miles ! Dead of winter too ! He was an Ameri- 
can for you. I can’t comprehend such a tremendous 


46 


LAND OF THE EAUREE. 


long journey. I never was away from here very far.” 

“ Then if we had not took the California country last 
year, England would have stolen it from us,” con- 
tinued Hoover. “She is always grabbing everything 
in sight. If the English saw a knothole floating on the 
ocean they would be tr} r ing to stick their flag into it. 
It is only six years since they tried to grab away 
almost half the State of Maine. They wanted to run 
a railroad through there and had the brass to set up 
a claim on that country so as to have the railroad on 
their own ground. The English simply don’t know 
how to be decent toward us. The)^’ll learn better 
some dajT’ 

“My dad” observed Colbert, “was with Wayne in 
the battle on the Maumee, where he thrashed the 
Injuns so sound. The British had a fort close, by that 
the3^ had no business with, because it was American 
ground. Wa'yne said if the fort had opened its gates 
and let the savages in, he would have followed them 
right up.” 

“We’ll have another war with England one of these 
days,” declared Hoover. “The American people don’t 
forget easy, and they remember all the injustice and 
insult England has been giving us ever since the 
Revolutionar} r war. There is a smouldering dislike 
of England deep down in the hearts of the American 
people.” 

There could be no disagreement between these men 
as to the intensity of the anti-British feeling, which 
they shared with the majority of their countrymen of 
that day. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


47 


“You have plenty of woods up here in the moun- 
tains,” remarked Hoover changing- the drift of the 
conversation. 

“Yes, we are right in the woods, and yet people have 
been living here a long while, clearing out the ground 
little by little. My dad come here in 1798 and pat- 
ented four hundred acres. He first built a round-log 
house and then in about twent}^ years he built this. 
It was the best house in this part of the county in the 
day of it, and there’s mighty few better ones yet. I 
was quite a boy when this county was formed; thirty 
years ago. I can remember when coffee was a dollar 
a pound, calico fifty cents a } r ard, and salt four dollars 
a bushel. Now we get salt for a dollar a bushel by 
hauling it from West Moreland county, over in Penn- 
sylvania, where they boil the water from salt wells. 
I have been there for salt many a time. It takes a 
week to make the trip. All our goods once had to be 
hauled over rough roads from Winchester. Now we 
have things much better. The National Road brings 
them to within twent} r miles, and there is a mud pike 
passing over this mountain only three miles from me. 
But unless they can make that railroad come up over 
the mountain from Cumberland, we have got to have 
something better than mud pikes before our country 
can amount to much. Farmers that don’t live nigh 
the National Road can’t take much produce very far 
except cattle, and they can walk. We have free range 
for cattle back in the mountains. But talking of 
roads, these Tuckahoe aristocrats from your side of 
the Blue Ridge expects our delegates in the assembly 


48 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


to turn in and vote them a hundred thousand dollars 
for their public works just in return for their doling 
us out a thousand or two for our pikes. Our people 
are getting tired of that thing. We are proud of the 
old state, but we want to be treated fair.” 

“Any niggers in your part of this county?” inquired 
Hoover. 

“Not a one. If there was, we might get treated 
with more consideration. We people are poor and 
work hard, but even if we don’t have niggers we think 
we are as good as them Tuckahoes. Whj r , a man in 
our country who owns his land clear of anything, 
hain’t got no debts, and has got a hundred dollars 
in money laid by , is counted a rich man. We have to 
raise mighty nigh all we eat and wear, and most 
everything we work with we make ourselves. Outside 
of cattle we don’t have no big source of read} 7 " money, 
and being so far from market, they sell low. If I took 
a pound of butter to the store I couldn’t get over a fip- 
penr^-bit for it and a pound of coffee costs a levy.* 
So we make rye do as coffee, and we make our tea out 
of thyme, birch and sassafras. We use tree sugar 

* For the benefit of those readers to whom these terms are unfamiliar, we 
will state that at the time of this story silver money of Spanish coinage was 
current in the United States, and over the greater portion of the country was 
in very extensive use. These coins included the real, value 1254 cents, and half- 
real, value 654 cents. The real went by the name of the levy, which is a contrac- 
tion for “eleven-penny-bit.” The smaller coin was called “fippeuny-bit,” or 
simply “fip.” It was also called the picayune, the name universally given to 
it in Louisiana. Near the beginning of the Civil War these coins were retired 
from circulation. The fractional silver coins of United States mintage included 
pieces of 50, 25, 10, 5, and 3 cents. The copper half-cent was then in use, in 
addition to large copper coins of one and two cents value. The five cent nickel 
piece had not then been coined. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 49 

instead of West India, and garden pepper instead of 
store pepper. But then we don’t complain so very 
bad. We have plenty to eat and plenty of wood to 
burn and something- to wear. We enjoy life after all.” 

“You have a promising- boy here, ” observed Hoover. 

“That’s what people tell me,” replied the host. 
“For my part, I have tried to bring- him up rig-ht. 
We come of g-ood stock if I do say it. My granddad 
was a schoolmaster and had a g-ood education. He 
was a captain, too, and a rather prominent man in his 
da3 r . My dad thought he’d come out to the West, and 
so I growed up here in the woods and didn’t get to see 
much schooling. This boy takes to books like a duck 
does to water. I can’t do much for him but I mean 
to do something. We have been wanting one of these 
new iron stoves, but they cost sixty dollars, and that 
money will keep him quite a while at some academy. 
This winter we had an uncommon good teacher and 
Frank has shot right ahead. He begun on vulgar 
fractions and ciphered clean through Pike’s Arith- 
metic. Then he finished the Western Calculator and 
was the onty scholar that studied geograpy and gram- 
mar. Billson has learned him to talk a heap more 
proper than I do. I would like to see him be a sur- 
ve} T or. He has a good head for finding the lines 
between people’s places. Then he’s heavy about 
reading of wars and great generals. I named him for 
one. His whole name is Francis Marion Colbert. I 
believe he would make an officer. I guess it runs in 
our blood. My granddad always said his own grand- 
dad was a French Hugenot colonel. Frank put the 


50 


LAND OF THF LAURFL- 


school boys through some military drill. One of our 
militia captains showed him how and the teacher en- 
couraged it. He wanted to go to the regiment muster 
last May but I couldn’t spare him. This year he’s of 
military age, and I have just passed out. He would like 
to have been where you was, down in Taylor’s 
arm}". Frank, tell the man what books you’ve read.” 

“Fifteen: the Fives of Washington, Franklin, 
Putnam and Marion; Pilgrim’s Progress, Robinson 
Crusoe, Arabian Nights, Green Mountain Boys, 
Flint’s Geography of the Mississippi Valley, Peter 
Parley’s History of the World, a History of Our Wars, 
Scott’s Pirate, and Cooper’s Pathfinder and Last of 
the Mohicans.” 

“And he knows pretty nigh every word in them,” 
added the parent. 

“ Boys read close and remember what they read,” 
observed the guest. “ Now there is something in this 
boy. He must have a better opportunity.” 

The words of the stranger were impressive and 
convincing. Hoover had made a fitm friend of the 
farmer’s son. 

‘ ‘This winter, ” remarked Colbert, ‘ ‘it cost me twelve 
dollars to pay the tuition of the children I signed for. 
I paid it willingly, but the term is only three months 
and it won’t do Frank no good to go to any more 
such teachers as we’ve had.” 

The housewife now appeared and built a fire in the 
bake oven, a cavern in the chimney about five feet 
deep. When the wood was consumed the ashes were 
drawn out, the oven brushed with a rag tied to a 


land' of thf LAURFL. 


51 


stick, and then cleaned more thorougly with a damp 
cloth. From a mound of dough raised in a basket, 
loaves were moulded and placed in the oven. 

The dinner was a more varied meal than the break- 
fast. Corn bread, homin) r and potatoes took the place 
of the griddle cakes, and the item of meat was repres- 
ented by chicken and wild rabbit. Dried apple was a 
further variation, but fruit was not so common an 
article of winter diet as it is now, the canning- pro- 
cess being- unknown. 

“If you please, would you mind writing- me down 
just a little account of that green Mexican plant you 
told me of, so I’ll remember it better?” 

The voice was Frank’s and the youth had writing 
materials in his hand. 

“Certainly,” was Hoover’s response. 

Perhaps the stranger did not discern the innocently 
expressed motive of the alert youth, for when the half 
page of foolscap was returned to his hand, it needed no 
one to tell him the handwriting was done by a man 
familiar with the pen. And to pique his curiosity still 
further, he found none of the words misspelled, al- 
though the man had made a failure in two of them 
the night before. 

During the latter part of the day the guest took the 
lead in the conversation and directed it in so adroit a 
manner that he became possessed of a large fund of 
information regarding the people of a wide radius 
around the Colbert home. Hoover did not need to ask 
many direct questions, but the results drawn out were 
not altogether unobserved by the spelling champion. 


52 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


“He’s a funny man,” thought Frank. “I know 
there’s more in him than he lets on. He can see 
through a millstone as far as an} T body I know. What 
can he be driving at? He’s up to some scheme I’m 
positive. I’d give a fip to know what it is, but it 
wouldn’t do to ask him.” 



IV. 


A LOGROLLING. 

Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must 
also be evil. — Byron. 

More than two weeks had elapsed since the spelling- 
match. Both Hoover and Galwix had left the neigh- 
borhood and whither they had g-one no one seemed 
able to say. The snow was melted but the ground 
gas ver3 r wet, and down every ravine coursed a brawl- 
ing stream of crystal purity. The skies were leaden 
gray with the moisture rising from the sodden earth. 

Mr. Colbert — let it here be undestood that the peo- 
ple who knew him never thought of using the com- 
plimentary prefix — had invited his neighbors to a 
logrolling. On the day chosen, a score and a half 
of stalwart men and youths assembled in a partially 
cleared field, to advance its preparation for growing 
a crop of corn the ensuing summer. They came wil- 
ling^ and without a thought of pay. Neighborly 
aid was a matter of course with these mountain- 
eers. Yet they did not regard such service as 
charity, for each man who asked his neighbors to 
help him roll his logs, husk his corn, or raise a house, 
was ready to extend similar aid to any of them. In 
the absence of the labor-saving appliances of the 
present time, the clearing and the farming of that 
day could not well be done without the collective 
effort of human muscle. 

County life favors independence of character, and 
the needs of the pioneer develop the quality of resource- 


54 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


fulness. His plain hardy life and the influence of a 
wilderness only very partially subdued, both go to in- 
spire truthfulness and generosity. His manner might 
be brusque and even rough, but it was the spontane- 
ous outflow of an unsophisticated good nature. 

The field presented a busy scene. Men with teams 
and log chains were dragging the heavy trunks into 
heaps, while other men with handspikes were mov- 
ing them to a more compact position. Still other 
persons were gathering up the limbs and tops. Hive 
coals had been brought swiftly from the house and 
from the fire kindled in one brush heap brands had 
been carried to other piles until clouds of smoke were 
drifting through the clearing. The crackling flames 
mingled their roar with the shouts of the drivers and 
the loud voices of the men who were working in com- 
pany. The fine logs of oak, ash, hickory' and chest- 
nut would, in the lifetime of these very men, have be- 
come worth more than any crop the stony field was 
able to produce. 

“Here, Caleb, just give me a shove on this thing,” 
came the heavy voice of Nimrod Thistle, as he drove 
a handspike under the butt of an oak log. 

“Nimrod,” inquired Caleb Sidwell, as soon as the 
two men had come to a breathing spell, “what do 
you think will come of Solomon Gull if he don’t do 
better? He neglects his famil}^, don’t send any to 
school, and he gets drunk whenever he goes off any 
place.” 

“That’s as good as you can expect of a man that 
has two woods boys on the outside. They never 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


55 


lived at home, don’t go by his name, and he don’t do 
nothing for ’em. He’s a mighty crooked stick. But 
look-a-here, Caleb, does your youngest brother have 
a vote? The state election is only six weeks off.” 

“I’m not sure. How’s the law read.” 

“You’ve got to have a house at least twelve feet by 
twelve and either fifty acres not cleared or twenty- 
five acres that is.” 

“Then he’d come in all right, if he only had a deed 
for his place. It’s nowheres near paid for yet. ’Pears 
like a dollar’n a half an acre sounds cheap, but land 
is powerful hard to pay^ for, even at that. Clean 
money is not so darned easy to get hold of.” 

“I’d be sorry if he don’t get to vote. I reckon our 
side will win out all right, but the whigs is strong 
on j T on side of Cheat. There’s a new one in our 
crowd here to-day.” 

“H’m, I thought I smelled a skunk,” rejoined Sid- 
well. “But then the whigs don’t stand much show in 
old Preston. Goes democratic pretty regular. But fact 
is, Nimrod, I don’t see much use in turning out to 
vote. We don’t do nothing but send a man to the 
house of delegates. Everything else from the gov- 
ernor down is chose for us.” 

“No,” replied Thistle, “it won’t do to lay back. 
We must send men that will keep on fighting for a 
new constitution, so we’ll get treated fairer.” 

Were we to continue listening to their political 
talk, we would find that it had scant reference to mat- 
ters lyiing outside of their county. These people were 
very local in spirit. They were not familiar with 


56 


LAND OF THE LAUREL- 


the map of their own state and could locate only a 
few of its counties. They had scarcely heard of tel- 
egrams and their county was without a newspaper. 
The war with Mexico touched them but remotely. 
Its causes were not clearly understood and its pro- 
gress had not been closely followed. Even the law- 
yers of the county seat were not thoroughly ac- 
quainted with the work of the legislatures in distant 
Richmond. The paternalism of the state govern- 
ment went far to circumscribe the interest of the 
voter in public affairs and to keep him in a state of 
tutelage. But illiteracy was no bar to the exercise of 
suffrage, voting being viva voce, although tickets 
were used for reference. 

“How are you coming on, Hiram?” demanded This- 
tle, with a strong emphasis on the final syllable of 
the name. He was addressing a young neighbor 
down whose face the sweat was trickling. 

“All right, Nimrod, let’s see your bottle.” 

Without a word the elder man produced a flask 
from which Hiram Stotler drank a moderate swallow 
of whiske3 r . In that day teetotalism was quite rare, 
and farmers generally kept a supply of rye whiskey 
or peach brand} 7 . It was not deemed possible to 
carry on a neighborhood work without the aid of a 
well filled jug. But in justice both to the liquor and 
to its users it is only fair to say that the former war 
not a solution of corrosive chemicals, while the lat- 
ter were not very tolerant of habitual drunkenness. 
They were deserving of credit in this regard, inas- 
much as there was no heavy federal tax on the whis- 


LAND OF THF FAURFF. 


57 


key and the fluid cost but fifty cents a g-allon. In the 
present instance the young- man asked for a dram 
with a view of warding- off the cold which his heated 
condition was liable to induce. 

“I’ll have to call on this crowd next month, when I 
raise my house,” remarked Stotler. 

“All rig-ht, Hiram; but let me tell you something-.” 
said Caleb earnest^. ‘ ‘Don’t 3^ou have 3 r our clapboards 
split out till the moon is favoring-. Did 3 T ou ever notice 
the difference between the lower half of Adam Shere’s 
roof and the upper? The clapboards was all rived from 
the same timber, but not in the same sigrn of the moon. 
Them that la3 r s on the lower side is smooth as you 
please, but the upper courses is all curled up.” 

Frank Colbert and an older companion were now 
within hearing- distance. 

“Where’d you reckon John Galwix is now?” in- 
quired Stotler. “Thing-s is lively when he’s in the 
settlement.” 

Nimrod Thistle straig-htened up and looked over 
the group with a knowing- expression. He then laid 
down the law. 

“That fellow is powerful clever in his way, and he 
knows how to come around people, but do you know, 
neig-hbors, I’ve alwa3^s had m3 r doubts about him. 
Ther’s a foxy look in his eyes.” 

“O, I don’t know,” remarked Sidwell, incredu- 
loursly. “I never heard no ill of him, and he wakes 
us up when he comes round.” 

“We never see but one side of him,” rejoined This- 
tle. “We don’t know where all he g-oes to or what 


58 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


he does. You have nothing- but his word for where he 
comes from. First, he was in here peddling- pepper- 
mint. Next time he’d put another iron in his fire, 
and now he has a third one; always has something 
to trade with you. He is one you need to watch 
a little, in my opinion.” 

“Anyhow,” insisted Caleb, “he’s a mighty sight 
more interesting fellow than that fever and ague 
man that couldn’t spell b-r-i-e-r, brier. He was the 
dumbest stranger I ever did see. All mixed up on 
the points of the compass. You couldn’t make him 
understand that Big Sandy wasn’t the Yuogh river.” 

“Might be he wan’t so dumb as you thought for.” 

Frank, who was by nature a discriminating judge 
of character, had also his doubts as to the sincerity 
of the affable stranger. But he had never yet heard 
it questioned so positively. Neither could he believe 
that Hoover was so dull of comprehension as he had 
made Caleb Sidwell suppose. What was the mastery 
connected with these two men, who were so unlike 
one another? He would keep his own counsel but he 
would wait and see. 



V 


THE VOICE OF AMBITION. 

I hear a voice you cannot hear, 

Which says, I must not stay; 

I see a hand you cannot see, 

Which beckons me away. 

— Tick ell. 

On the morning- of the twenty-third of May Frank 
Colbert was going to mill. He had two horses, one 
of which he rode, while the other bore sacks of grain 
lying across the ancient pack-saddle. 

The day was warm and bright and all nature seemed 
to rejoice in the approach of summer. The leaves of 
the forest trees were fully grown, the little patches 
of wheat looked brilliant in their deep living green, 
while humble dots of verduce in the otherwise bare 
cornfields enabled one to trace the rows. Birds of 
passage were hopping along the roadway or singing 
among the trees, while the woodpeckers with their 
tiny claws clinched upon some decaying trunks were 
tapping holes in search of insects. An owl was hoot- 
ing in the woods and a flock of crows, giving utter- 
ance to their harsh, discordant note, flew from the 
edge of a clearing. Cattle and sheep were browsing 
energetically on the dewy grass. The aroma of the 
warm, moist earth seemed instinct with growth. 
Springtime is the j^outh of the year, and is sugges- 
tive of the buoyancy which is the birthright of devel- 
oping life. The warm, soft exhalation from the 
soil, laden with the electricity of Mother Earth, was 
like an infant’s breath. The vigorous outburst of 


60 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


vegetable life at this season has its parallel in the 
hope and joyousness of animate nature. 

The road was little more than a bridle path. Light 
vehicles were rarely seen in these hills, and wagons 
were less used than at present. The back of the 
horse was proportionally of more consequence as a 
means of travel or transportation. The passageway 
through the woods was fairly direct and it took little 
advantage of the contour of the ground. If it ran 
directly over the hill rather than around it, this was 
because the pioneers followed the line of least resist- 
ance. A tolerably straight course meant fewer trees 
to fell and less underbrush to cut away, while even 
if the crossing of a hill occasione-d a heavy grade 
there was less trouble than with the laurel thickets and 
the steep banks which were encountered in the ravines. 

The youth passed over a hilltop and went by a 
clearing which had been converted into a meadow. 
The field was inclosed by a brush fence. Looking 
behind him among the girdled, leafless trees which 
dotted the opening, Frank could see, a few miles 
away, the undulating summit of Chestnut Ridge, the 
most western buttress of the Appalachian system. 
Before him, and at a much greater distance, lay the 
parallel crest of Laurel Hill. Either range was an 
unbroken forest. The intervening distance was a 
lab) r rinth of lesser elevations, and the predominance 
of woodland was so great that seldom did a field 
appear except in the foreground. In those days the 
crystal mountain air was not befogged with smoke 
from the Connellsville coke region. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL- 


61 


But it was toward the right that he gazed most curi- 
ously. Within the limit of an hour’s walk he could 
see the irregular brink of the deep, stupendous chasm 
through which coursed the rushing waters of the 
mountain-born and mount ain-walled Cheat. Bej^ond 
were slopes lying at almost every imaginable angle, 
and far toward the south was the ragged horizon. 

A few cabins and clearings lay in plain view. 
Frank had often been to the edge of the river hill 
where he could hear men on the other side shout to 
their horses or cattle. He had been down the precip- 
itous bluff to fish in the bowlder-strewn torrent, 
but he had never yet set foot on that farther shore. 
His father knew some of the dwellers in those cabins, 
and some day — perhaps this very summer — he would 
himself cross over and extend the horizon of his 
world. For that horizon was very, very narrow. 

It was pleasant to know something of the great 
world through the books he had read so attentively, 
but he would like to see more of the reality. Mor- 
gantown, the nearest place of much importance, con- 
tained but a few hundred people. Though less than 
fifteen miles awa y, he had never even seen it. More 
than a year had elapsed since he had visited the mill 
to which he was now going. 

Frank’s experience was nothing unusual. Within 
a radius of two, three, or five miles — this depend- 
ing on the topography of the district — the adult 
settler might be acquainted with every family 
and every road or clearing. His occasions for going 
farther were generally rare, and then perhaps only in 


/ 


62 LAND OF THF LAURKL. 

special directions, as when he had a call to the county 
seat or assisted in taking- a drove of cattle over the 
National Road to Cumberland. 

As for the 3 r oung- people, they were to be found at 
the parental fireside more of the time than in the case 
of their present successors. This tendency to sta}^ at 
home was accompanied with much verdancy, but 
since every home was a workshop, there was small op- 
portunity for idleness, and doubtless the verdancy 
was a much lesser evil than the loafing- and the for- 
wardness so often seen in the towns and villag-es of 
to-day. 

On coming- of age the 3^oung- man soug-ht a life part- 
ner and settled down near either his old home or his 
wife’s home. If, however, he were somewhat adven- 
turous, he mig-ht journe3 r to a newer count3 r in his own 
state or migrate be3 r ond the Ohio, so that he could 
bu3 r land a little cheaper. Once g-one he became on\y 
a recollection, and perhaps the home of his child- 
hood was never revisited. Travel was not thefi a 
recreation. It was an arduous undertaking-, and 
furthermore the people west of the mountains do 
have a strong- sentimental interest in an early home. 
This European trait has lost much of its force in 
making: the transit of the Alleg-hanies. 

Ver3 r possibty the 3 T oung- man learned some trade, 
3 T et he was also a tiller of the ground and considered 
the farm his basis of support. The cit3 r and the 
National Road had but slig-ht drawing- power. Why 
should the3^? The cities were quite destitute of the 
great workshops they now possess. Their allure- 


land of thf laurfl. 


63 


ments were chiefly in the way of professional or mer- 
cantile pursuits. The wag-oners of the great thor- 
oughfare were recruited from the people living- along 
the road. Hence the problem of settling- down in 
the world was simple. The goal of the young- man was 
a farm of his own, whereon he lived a quiet, uneventful 
life, not feeling- a very lively interest in what was 
g-oing- on outside of the “country” which was 
bounded b} r his actual acquaintance. 

Frank had cherished this same ideal, yet unawares 
it had been floating- away. His books and the family 
traditions had revealed to him a great outer world, 
and he felt that it had a special messag-e to him. 
But what was the form of this message? Beyond 
that question la} r a veil which he hoped a broader 
education mig-ht open. Intellect has been granted 
to man to be exercised. When rein is given to 
its activity the result may involve pain as well as 
pleasure. It may not always enlarg-e the bounds of 
individual happiness. This contingency was hidden 
from Frank. It is well that it is not clearly seen 
during- the period of youth. The rider on the horse 
had an aspiration within his breast, and he was de- 
termined to follow it: and he was rigiit. 

Passing- down the hill Frank threw a final g-lance 
at that unvisited shore to the southward. Why had 
the undulating- expanse taken on a romantic interest 
before his eyes? He was aware that the young- men 
of his acquaintance did not always choose their life 
partners from their immediate neighborhoods. But 
while he did not see that this fact had any signifi- 


64 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


cance to himself, he could not resist thinking- about it. 

The guardian of the grain sacks forded the rip- 
pling current of Laurel run, shaded by the dark, 
arrow-like pines that stood like sentinels over the 
sparkling waters. 

Not far be} T ond, a dozen men were grubbing a piece 
of new land. Each workman had assigned to him 
a strip one rod wide extending across the field. 
His goal was a stake at the farther side. All under- 
brush and all the sapling trees were removed and the 
roots torn out, but large trees were left to be girdled. 
At the close of the day three acres of new land would 
bristle with several roots and upturned stones. 

“Stake,” cried the man who first came to the end 
of a strip. 

Near him was a man plowing in an open field. 
His furrowing implement was the precursor of the 
factory-made plow. The mould-board was of wood, 
and when an obstruction was encountered, the 
farmer would narrowly- escape a blow in the stomach 
from one of the straight handles. A boy- rode on the 
beam to help maintain the cutting edge under the 
surface. 

“ Aaron,” exclaimed the plowman to the grubber, 
“when these things rare up, they kick a man out of 
the field and then kick at him after he is out. I’ve 
a de’il of a notion to get one o’ them ‘ True’ Ameri- 
can iron plows. The handles is bent. There was 
just a few of ’em brung into the country last year 
and I’ve been waiting to see how they worked. I 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


65 


did’nt believe they was much force. They didn’t 
look like they was made strong.’’ 

As Frank kept on his way his thoughts went back 
to those mysterious men, Hoover and Galwix. The 
unusual did not enter so largely into his life as to 
cause the fascinating puzzle to become forgotten. 
Rumors of the continued presence of these men in 
the county had reached the settlement, and Frank 
believed he would meet them again. 

In two hours he came to a half-dozen houses clus- 
tered in a low bottom on the left bank of the Sand}^, 
a large tributary of the Cheat. Several of these 
dwellings were of quite recent construction, and this 
was likewise true of the frame woolen mill. But the 
little log gristmill had been the starting point of a 
village which had just exchanged the name of Mil- 
ford for that of Bruceton. 

It was customary to go to mill horseback and, three 
other grists had been brought in this manner. The 
mills could not count on running throughout the 
summer and fall, because of low water, and many 
families then had to make large use of other articles 
of food besides flour. Yet these small water mills 
were comparatively numerous. Every stream of any 
importance furnished power to at least one, and 
where the building yet remains it is seldom in use 
and is often gone to ruin. The steam mill equipped 
with the roller process has won in the race with the 
water turned burr, quarried from white conglomerate. 

Ezra Sheres was one of the earlier customers, and 


66 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


he was engaged in a wrestle with the miller’s assis- 
tant, a youth, named Alpha Hike. 

“Look here, Alph,” called the miller appearing at 
the door. “You’ll have to take my place now; I’m 
going out. And quit that foolishness. One of you 
boys might get hurt by a fall in that hard place.” 

But Alpha Hike did not go into the mill before he 
had thrown his awkward antagonist. Meanwhile 
the two older customers were standing at the door. 

“Abram,” said the younger of these men to his 
burly companion, “I’ve got a loose tooth troubling 
me. I want } r ou to knock it out with a nail and 
hammer.” 

“That’s a rough way,” replied Abram Vedder. 
“Better wait till you can see the doctor and let him 
clap his drawers on it.” 

4 ‘ Can’t wait, ” declared Hezekiah Mutt. “It’s loose. 
I’ll get down on this floor and hold myself stiff and 
3 r ou go ahead.” 

Mutt stretched himself on the platform, and with a 
heavy nail and a hammer the offending incisor was 
knocked from its socket. 

“No more bother from that tooth,” exclaimed Mutt 
after spitting the blood from his mouth. 

“I ground a grist here once by hand,” observed 
Vedder, becoming reminiscent. “That was in old 
Billy r Morton’s time. I stopped over night with him 
when I was hauling salt from Kiskiminstes. The 
water was too low to turn the burrs and old Billy 
had two grindstones fitted together to turn by hand. 
I had to grind some meal for our breakfast. It was 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


67 


hard work, let me tell yon, but them stones made 
mig-ht} 7 ' fair meal. Milling- is g-ot to be a good busi- 
ness now. The mills sell a heap of flour to the 
wagoners going through, and they get two dollars 
and fifty- cents a hundred for it.’’ 

“I reckon you used to see pretty backwoodsy times 
up there in the Craborchard,” volunteered Mutt. 

“O m}% }^es; I was born and raised in a round-log 
cabin no better’n what the Injuns lived in. I’m the 
oldest of fifteen children — ten boys, and five girls — 
and my cradle was a sugar trough, made out of a 
poplar log. I had a blind aunt that used to rock 
it; didn’t need no rockers, you see. She got her eyes 
put out when she’s only four 3 r earsold.” 

It was not long until the two men received their 
grists and went awa3 r . Frank and Alpha were there 
alone in the building. The 3^oung miller chanced to 
look through an unchinked space between the logs 
and he then motioned Frank to come his way. 

In a spot otherwise will screened by clumps of alder 
bushes stood John Galwix in low and earnest conver- 
sation with Ezra Sheres. The elder person was seen 
to la3 T three large shining coins in Ezra’s palm. No 
words could be distinguished and the observers drew 
back, Alpha hiding the aperture with a meal sack. 

“Mighty sly about that,” muttered Alpha. 

“Suppose 3 r ou don’t forget this,” suggested Frank. 

“ I just won’t,. And when they come in I’ll have some 
fun out of it. I just want to devil that Ezra Sheres. 
He thinks he knows it all and a heap more besides.” 


68 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“What do you think of that man Galwix ? ” asked 
the customer. 

“Fact is, I’m just the least bit dubious. Never 
heard nothing- ag-en him, either: that is, nothing- that 
come straig-ht.” 

In a little while Ezra came into the mill. Galwix 
followed him after an interval, and greeted Frank 
with great apparent cordialit} T . Alpha Hike allowed 
several moments to elapse before springing- his surprise. 

“Ezra, who’s that you .' s talking- with down in the 
brush ? ” 

“ Wan’t talking- with nobod} r ,” ejaculated the open- 
mouthed youth. 

He had turned pale, but the only effect on Galwix 
was to create a confident smile. 

“You know you was,” insisted Alpha. 

“You dirty liar,” was the prompt rejoinder. 

Alpha immediately broug-ht his fist upon the gap- 
ing- mouth. Ezra attempted to return the pugilistic 
compliment, and a fig-ht in real earnest was only pre- 
vented by Galwix throwing- himself between the com- 
batants and g-etting- his hat knocked off. 

“Boys, boys,” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing to 
fight about. I can explain it all, I think.” 

The fists were lowered and Ezra picked up the hat 
he had brushed off. 

“I was talking with Ezra outside,” continued Gal- 
wix. “He must have forgot it was nigh the mill — ” 

“Making some kind of trade?” interrupted the 
young miller. 


LAND OF THE LAUREL- 


69 


“Just loaning him a few dollars to buy a shotgun 
with,” explained the man. 

“Ezra, what’ll you give me for mine?” proposed 
Hike. “I’ll sell it cheap.” 

“Don’t want no gun o’ your’n,” snapped Ezra. 

“I don’t know what need to be wrong with a gun 
I have, any more’n anybody else’s,” protested Hike. 

“No harm to look at it,” interposed Galwix. 

“ Don’t want it.” 

Ezra moved away sulkily and Alpha Hike turned 
to his work. Frank intercepted a wink which Galwix 
threw at his companion. The latter fidgeted about 
for a few moments and then left the mill. 

“ I’d just like to have saw them coins,” exclaimed 
the miller bo}-. Galwix tried to smooth everything 
all slick, but Ezra — the way he got catched up just 
killed him.” 

“There’s nothing much to show anything was 
wrong,” commented Frank. 

“I know that, but there was something rotten.” 

“Galwix didn’t want Ezra to buy your gun,” 
asserted Frank. 

“You’re right he didn’t. Well, I’ll keep my mouth 
shut as long as there’s nothing more to go on.” 

Thence forward both Galwix and Ezra Sheres were 
under suspicion by Frank and the young miller. 


VI 


A WIDENING HORIZON. 

No thought once formed and uttered can expire. — Mackay. 

“I’m going up to see Brandonville,” exclaimed 
Frank. “I’ll have time before the grist is read}G 
I’ve never been there this long while.” 

“Here, wait,” interposed Alpha. “I’ll put 3^ou 
over the pond in the boat down here. That will 
save you going round by the wooden bridge. And 
then if you ride you might run up against the toll- 
gate.” 

Frank stepped into a boat for the first time in his 
life, and in almost less time than it takes to mention 
the circumstance, he was rowed across the mill pond. 

“There is Steve Gladwell going up,” observed 
Alpha. “Better walk along with him. He’s a right 
nice fellow. Taught in the brush academ}" last 
winter; just above here on the Uniontown road.” 

A person one had never before met was but nomi- 
nally a stranger in the* estimation of these people, 
and in a few moments the two pedestrians were on 
full terms of acquaintanceship. 

While climbing the hillside leading toward the 
other village, a pedler was seen approaching them. 
He was a short man and his pack rose just above the 
crown of his head. The pedler was a common sight in 
this region, and his national^ was usuall} r American. 

“Do you know that fellow gave me a scare the 
other day, out in the Smith settlement,” remarked 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


71 


Gladwell. “The people out there tell of a man who 
is seen in the road after dark, and he has no head. 
Well, it was night but not dark, and I saw this man 
come along. I couldn’t see any head. I was going 
to climb over the fence, but I thought I’d speak, and 
he answered me. Then I noticed it was his pack 
that made the appearance. I told him the ghost story, 
and he said they had just such ghosts over in Ireland.” 

It was only a mile to Brandonville, and they were 
soon approaching a small log house, the first dwelling 
in the village. 

“This is Mr. Curry’s place,” said Gladwell. “He 
makes pottery, and I see he’s at work today. Bver 
see a pot turned?” 

“No, but I would like to.” 

They accordingly turned out of the road, and it 
was a revelation to Frank to witness the seeming 
ease with which a ball of wet clay on the potter’s 
wheel was fashioned into a crock. 

At the time of our story Brandonville was an in- 
dustrial and commercial point of consequence, and 
was one of the two leading villages in its own county. 
It contained more than twenty houses, nearly all of 
them facing the turnpike running through the town. 
Several of these houses were substantial structures of 
brick, But during the half century that has since 
elapsed, the number of dwellings and of people has 
actually diminished, and the little town has dropped 
far in the rear of places where then were solitudes. 
The story of Brandonville is an incident in the sup- 
planting of the turnpike by the railroad. 


72 


land of the laurel. 


“They make quite a number of things in and near 
here,’’ remarked Glad well. “The biggest concerns 
are the tanneries, and the linseed oil mill, and the 
stove foundry. Four men and several boys work 
here. They make what is called the Hathaway 
stove. Mr. Biggins has the right of making them in 
this country, and Joe Gilson peddles them around. 
He will load three or four on a wagon and drive 
through the country till he gets them sold. Stoves 
are something new. They are lots handier to cook 
by than a fireplace is.” 

The new friends were soon passing a small two- 
story brick building, of very plain architecture and 
narrow eaves. 

“This is our academy,” observed the guide. “You 
ought to come to school here this witer. The small 
pupils go up stairs and the bigger ones are down be- 
low. They teach some advanced studies. There is 
school ever} r week day, except every other Saturday, 
and the hours are from eight till four. A good many 
people round here are Quakers, and they believe in 
schools’ ’ 

Frank made a mental note of what his friend was 
telling him. He was shown the sights of the 
village and was finally conducted to a store, when a 
stage coach rolled rapidly in from the east and 
paused before a tavern. 

“This stage comes from the National Road,” ex- 
plained Glad well. “It goes through Kingwood and 
on to Evansville, on the Northwestern Pike, and 
then back.. Two stages go through here every day; 


THE MI I V E POND Phot’d by C S. Rexroad 









LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


73 


one each way. They don’t run in winter because the 
pike is too muddy. The mail is carried then on two 
horses.” 

The stage bore the name of “Redbird,” and was of 
the same class as those used on the famous National 
Road. It was painted red and yellow, with orna- 
mental marking’s. The wheels were heavy with 
broad tires. Instead of steel spring’s, broad leather 
straps were in use. The passeng-er compartment was 
cushioned and lined with plush. The three seats 
were sufficient for nine persons, and still another 
could ride with the driver. In the rear was the boot 
or baggage compartment. The heavy vehicle was 
drawn by four mag-nificent sorrel horses, working- in 
a very strong- harness. Bells swinging- in an arch 
above the hames kept up an incessant tinkle. 

The stag-e made a very brief tarry, but its arrival 
was the event of the day, and every' villag-er who 
could g-et within sig-ht was trydng to see whether any 
passeng-er alig-hted or any person g-ot on. A few of 
those nearest the spot plied the driver with queries 
relating- to the news of the day. But there was no 
commercial traveler to be let off, with his array of 
trunks sufficient to fill a freight wagon, and of a 
strength comparable to the armor on a battleship. 

The home of Henry Biggins, the solid man of 
Brandonville, was a commodious and substantial 
structnre of gray stone, and unlike nearly- all the 
other dwellings in the village it stood back from the 
street. His store was a brick building, and possessed 
the unusual feature of lying lengthwise to the avenue. 


74 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


The merchant carried on a business that was con- 
sidered large in his da}^, but if the j^ounger readers 
of this volume could look back nearly six decades, 
they would marvel at the meagreness of the stock. 
All the goods could be stowed into a single freight 
wagon. There were no ready-made clothes, scarcely 
any notions, no show cases, and, in brief, an almost 
entire absence of those characteristic articles that 
lend so attractive an appearance to the modern store. 
No odorous kerosene barrel was in the wareroom, but 
in its place were quantities of tallow candles, made 
by dipping instead of moulding, and purchased of 
the farmers. 

Henry Biggins was fifty years of age and of more 
than average height and weight. He was nervous, 
quick, keen of perception, shrewd and far-sighted. 
Though not easy of approach, and often envied be- 
cause of the means he had accumulated, he never- 
theless stood well with a large and influential element 
in the community. 

The merchant was engaged in conversation with 
two men of an age similar to his own. Their names, 
as appeared in the course of the dialogue, were Syl- 
vanus Swift and Daniel Rush, and a whisper from 
Gladwell conveyed the further intelligence that they 
lived near by and were prosperous farmers. The two 
men were clad in the homespun linen general^ used 
in warm weather, while Mr. Biggins wore a suit of 
cassinet woven at the Bruceton woolen mill. 

Frank and his new friend had no particular errand, 
and the merchant favored them with only a quick 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


75 


glance and a brief interrogatory. There was no 
other break in the triangular conversation. 

“ Brandon ville is now of age,” observed Rush. “ It 
was laid out twenty-one years ago last March. At 
first we called it Gladesville on account of the alder 
bushes and the level ground.” 

“The only house when I came here thirty years ago 
was Jonathan Brandon’s,” remarked the merchant. 

“If thee had not been to so much exertion,” 
continued Rush, “we might have had no town 
yet and not much doing here.” 

“ If a man has any energy and public spirit at all, 
he ought to put it to use,” declared Biggins, in his 
quick energetic way. “When I came into the coun- 
try thirty-three years ago, there had been perma- 
nent settlers for almost fifty years before then. 
Perhabs there were some five hundred people living in 
this end of the county. But there was not a road 
leading in here that was any good. It was a great 
task to bring supplies or to get anything to market. 
It was hard for the people to hold themselves out of 
barbarism. Too many of them were living in round- 
log cabins of one room. Such hovels are not con- 
ducive to cleanliness, or self-respect, or morality, or 
refinement. We needed roads — good roads — so people 
could market their produce to some advantage. Then 
money would be coming into the country and we 
could think of improving our condition. We now 
have fairly good mud pikes leading out east, west 
and south, and the National Road is only fifteen miles 
away. That brings our market very near, and though 


76 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


prices may be a little low, a great deal of business is 
cash. We have ore and have been making iron. 
We shall yet have stoves that will burn coal, and 
after the woods are cleared out we shall resort to the 
fuel that seems to lie under the surface so plentifully. 
We have our home industries now, and they are what 
we need. We make our own stoves, leather, cloth, 
linseed oil, pottery, wooden ware, and many^ other 
things. Now, S}dvanus, you don’t agree with me in 
politics, but I tell you we would always be poor so 
long as we did nothing but till the ground. We 
must enlarge our home industries — right here in our 
own county — before we can prosper as we should. 
See how the low tariff of ’42 made business flat. I 
knew a carpenter to take four cows in pa) r ment of a 
bill of thirt3 T -two dollars. You and I have been to 
sales where ahorse brought only twent} r -five dollars, 
a sheep three to five levies, oats a levy a bushel, and 
pork two cents a pound.” 

“Prices are not so much better 3^et,” protested 
Swift. “Butter runs from a fip to a levy a pound, 
oats two levies or two and a fip; corn four levies.” 

‘ ‘ O 3 r es, it is much better now,” interjected Rush, 
“but still there’s too great a difference between the 
price of what thee bu3 r s and what thee sells.” 

“The S3 r stem of state money is a hamper on trade,” 
remarked Biggins. “If you go from here to Pennsyl- 
vania or Ohio, or come from there here, you have to 
change your paper at the boundary and stand a shave 
of maybe five dollars in every hundred. People are 
afraid of it. A state bank bill is no safer than a note 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


77 


of hand. There must some day be a uniform system 
throughout the United States.” 

“We can keep to our silver,” replied Swift. “We 
use that among ourselves mostly, and never have 
enough of it at any one time to weight us down.” 

“But it is too bulky for large transactions,” objected 
Biggins. “And then you dare not run the risk of 
robbery in sending by mail. We have to send by 
messenger in that case and must go a long distance 
to reach a bank. It is these considerations and the 
long freight haul that make us pay high for goods.” 

“ I wish the Cheat was a smooth stream,” remarked 
Rush. “It would be worth more to us than all our 
pikes, because we could send away produce by boat.” 

“Yes, Daniel, but we would still need good roads 
in order to reach the river,” replied the merchant. 
“Some day, though, it’s great fall will be made to 
turn factory wheels. A Cheat River navigation com- 
pany was incorporated in March, but I doubt if steam- 
boats can be enabled to run up any higher than the 
mouth of Sandy.” 

“I hear that the steamboat built down at Ice’s 
Ferry two years ago, did not succeed,” remarked 
Swift. 

“ It would not work very well,” replied Biggins, 
“but down in the Monongahela, I hear that the 
“Star” and the “Hope” have been running to Mor- 
gantown this season. The}" will need more dams in 
that river. It is only four }-ears since they have had 
slackwater navigation as far as Brownsville.” 

“Some of these days we will have our mud pike 


78 


LAND OF THE LAUREL- 


metalled clear through to Evansville, and then we 
will be all right,” declared Swift. 

The merchant shook his head. 

“No, Sylvanus, it will not be necessary. We shall 
have a railroad and then these mountain valleys will 
develop into something that will surprise you.” 

“But how can the railroad ever climb these moun- 
tains?” demanded the incredulous farmer. “It can 
run along the Potomac bottom all right, but I don’t 
see how the engine can ever draw a load over these 
hills.” 

“Thej^’ll do it,” insisted Biggins. “The Ameri- 
can accomplishes anything he wants to when he sets 
out. Wh} r it is ten 3^ears already since the surveyors 
came through the county a few miles south of us. 
The steam road will never halt at Cumberland.” 

“I don’t know,” demurred Swift. “I am of the 
opinion it will ruin our countr} T . It will make busi- 
ness while it is building through; but wagoning will 
cease, and things will drop so flat that you can sell 
nothing at all. Grain will be brought in from Ohio 
cheaper than we can raise it; and the same way with 
livestock. But there’s one thing sure. The railroad 
will never go through over on the Pennsylvania side. 
They are fighting it tooth and nail, hammer and tongs.” 

‘ ‘ Some bright da} r those people will find they have 
stood in their own light,” exclaimed the merchant. 
“The people interested in the National Road are 
against any change, but the iron road will go way 
ahead of the pike, when it comes to carrying goods.” 

‘ ‘ The county is settling up very fast now, ’ ’ rem arked 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


79 


Swift, introducing- a new phase into the dialog-ue. 
“The courthouse people at King- wood say we must 
have ten thousand inhabitants by this time. In ’40 
there Was less than seven thousand.” 

“And yet we lose a g-oodly number of our people,” 
said Rush. “They g-o to Ohio and other parts of the 
West.” 

“I can’t blame them,” declared Big-g-ins. “What 
sort of republic is our state, when we are not permit- 
ted to choose our local officers and not even our gov- 
ernor ? Our state is not a republic but an olig-archy.” 

“The deleg-ates we send to Richmond must keep 
on insisting- that a new constitution be framed that 
shall be fair to our side of the state,” pursued Rush. 

“The) r — the people east of the mountains — call us 
the peasantry of the west, exclaimed the merchant 
in a tone of bitter scorn. “Peasantry indeed ! Why 
our people braved the wilderness and the Indian, and 
by their industn r and frug-ality are making- these val- 
.leys to blossom as the rose. The day will come when 
our western counties will read a few wholesome les- 
sons to the aristocracy of the east. We have a demo- 
cracy- here. The alliance is unnatural.” 

“Our deleg-ates don’t have the training- and schol- 
arship that they possess in the east,” commented Rush. 
“That puts us at a disadvantag-e. Why, Monong-alia 
county sent a man to Richmond, who actually did not 
know that our own deleg-ate g-ot a bill passed that 
took off a corner of his county and joined it to ours. 
That is one reason we are imposed on.” 

“Then,” added Swift, “ there’s very few of our peo- 


80 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


pie that came from the old part of the state, except 
the Shenandoah, where they are a good deal like us. 
Most of our settlers came in from Pennsylvania, 
Maryland, and New Jersey, and a few from farther 
north; several from as far as New England — j^ourself 
for instance. We harmonize with the slaveholders 
about like oil does with water. They despise us for 
doing our own work, and think we are a crowd of 
rough, ignorant boors.” 

“Our turn will come,” declared Biggins prophetic- 
ally. “Our roughness will wear off in time. And 
when it comes to ignorance, you will find as much of 
it east of the mountains as here. Their first families 
are well educated, but when you have said that 3 r ou 
have said all. They lack an intelligent, ambitious 
3 T eomamy, and they will feel the need of it one of 
these da3'S.” 

‘ ‘The first time I was over to W inchester, ’ ’ remarked 
Swift, “a merchant sa3 r s to me, ‘Swift, how do 3 t ou 
get along without niggers to do 3 T our work ? ’ I told* 
him we done it ourselves and asked no odds. ‘Women 
too?’ says he. ‘Certainly,’ I told him, ‘our women 
do the housework and we ask nothing better.’ Then 
he said he would as soon think of putting his head 
into the fire as for Sallie — that’s his woman — to have 
her to go into the kitchen to work. I don’t know 
where I would come out at if I undertook to support 
a herd of niggers to cany on my farm. Slavey will 
no more work in our country among our people here 
than the lower regions is fit for a powder-house.” 

“So long as the east, by unfair advantage, keeps 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


81 


the political power of the state in its own hands,” 
exclaimed Biggins, “we enjoy no more real freedom 
than Ireland.” 

“When I came to this county,” said Swift, “we 
sent two delegates to Richmond. Since the constitu- 
tion of ’29 went into force, we send only one. That 
is a step backward.” 

“We cannot always be kept in leading strings,” 
replied the merchant. “Our people clamor for a 
removal of these inequalities, and their* voice will be 
heard. Then we must have better schools, both low 
and high, so it shall not be so necessary for our 3 r oung 
people to go away to complete their education. I 
worked to secure an academv and I succeeded, although 
I do not see that my efforts are very well appreciated. 
But I shall raise my voice for a system of free schools, 
with a supervision over them that means something. 
Don’t tell me the indigent fund is ample for the edu- 
cation of poor children, when two in every five of our 
grow-up people can neither read nor write. That 
condition is a disgrace. Yet I cannot feel severe 
toward the parent whose self-respect makes him draw 
back from taking what looks like charit}^, and is 
charity. The opportunity should be the same to all, 
and the burden should rest upon all. We have only 
two academies in the county, and about forty primary 
schools. That is not enough to go round.” 

By this time Frank began to fear he was loitering 
too long, and quitting the store abruptly he hurried 
to the mill and thence to his home. To a mind less 
alert than his own the conversation would have been 


82 


LAND OF THF FAURFIv. 


either a bore or a mere diversion, but with him it was 
like a seed dropped into warm, moist earth. 

It is related of Lafayette that when he was an offi- 
cer in the garrison of Metz, and not a year older than 
Frank, the commandant of the post gave a banquet 
in honor of a brother of the king of England. La- 
faj^ette was a guest, and the remarks of the British 
visitor on the American “ rebels ” caused the young 
Frenchman to resolve then and there to lend his 
aid to those .very people. 

The informal discussion in the store was never for- 
gotten. The dialogue was not only an aid in deter- 
mining the life-journey of Frank Colbert, but it was 
further aid in settling a personal problem which came 
to him a dozen years later with tremendous import. 


VII 


THE REGIMENTAL MUSTER. 

The arms are fair, when the intent of bearing them is just. 

— Shakespeare. 

On the morning- of the twenty -seventh of May the 
villag-e of Brandonville took on a very animated 
appearance. It was the day of the annual reg-imental 
muster, and the one-hundred-and-fourth reg-iment, the 
oldest militia organization in the county, was assem- 
bling- for drill. 

The reg-imental and compan} r officers appeared in 
blue uniforms with yellow chevrons and brass buttons, 
and with epaulettes and red sashes. Swords were 
dang-ling- from the left hip. It was now Saturday and 
the officers had been drilling- throug-hout the week. 
But the tavern had sheltered them, and as the privates 
had to appear only for a singde daj r , there was no array 
of white tents to lend a still more martial aspect to 
the scene. 

The privates of a few companies had furnished 
themselves with blue coats and white pantaloons, the 
former g-arment having- white stripes and white bullet- 
shaped buttons. But to detract somewhat from the 
seriousness of the occasion, a majority of the privates 
were carrying- sticks in place of muskets. Yet the 
“embattled farmers” on man} r another field than that 
of Lexing-ton have proved their fig-hting- blood, and 
very many of the awkward, ununiformed farmers and 
farmers’ sons who had now come for a drill and a holi- 


84 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


day were destined to take part in the bloodiest war of 
modern history. 

It was not yet time for the drill to begin, and men 
and youths of all ages, from eighteen to fort3 r -five, 
were scattered along the village street. They some- 
times stood in silent solitarium, but more generally in 
groups, and in gait or poise were not always very 
soldier-like. Some looked as though trj^ing to kill 
time in the easiest manner possible, while others stood 
by doors or windows talking not with their own sisters 
but with the sisters of other persons. But the taverns 
and stores were the greatest centers of attraction, and 
many of the assembling hosts were allaying their 
thirst with another fluid than water. 

Frank Colbert was an early arrival, considering the 
more than average distance he had to come. While 
hitching his horse inside a log stable he espied among 
the bushes without the well-remembered face of John 
Galwix. The scheming eyes were now very animated 
for he stood facing a 3^ounger man of still more athletic 
form. The face of the second person seemed less 
intelligent than that of Galwix, but there was a crafti- 
ness in the heav3" features. The long mouth, curving 
outward and upward upon the check indicated the 
willingness of the owner to sell himself to the highest 
bidder, regardless of considerations of right or wrong. 

“Oho,” thought Frank, “here’s another chance to 
peep through a chink in the wall.” 

“You can pass off considerable?” asked Galwix in a 
voice not too low for Frank to hear. 

“Yes, indeed. Fver3 T bod3^ will be half drunk before 
he gets home.” 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


85 


“Well, be at the tavern in ten minutes. I’ll fix it 
there. You must not seem to know me on the street. 
Want something- to hold ’em?” 

Galwix tapped his pocket in a manner intended to 
be significant. 

“Yes, mine is near woreout.” 

The leader handed his companion a parcel, and as 
both men showed symptoms of moving- away, Frank 
quickly betook himself to the street and entered the 
public room of the tavern. Galwix soon appeared and 
beg-an to talk in his hail-fellow manner with a tall, 
raw-boned farmer. It was not long- until the stranger 
came in and looked idly over the thirsty, loud-talking- 
concourse. 

“John, who is that fellow?’’ asked the farmer, 
pointing- to the new arrival. 

“H’m,” muttered Galwix with a seemingly puzzled 
look. “I think I have seen him before, but I haven’t 
the least idea who it can be.” 

Frank had now made one more discover}^. He had 
learned that Galwix could lie and he was not aston- 
ished at the fact. 

The suave man resumed the former thread of con- 
versation, but soon broug-ht it to a close with the care- 
less remark: “ Drill will beg-in prett} r quick. Believe 
I’ll gfo to my room a moment.” 

The observant youth watched until he saw the 
strang-er move in the direction of Galwix, and then he 
returned to the street. Alpha Hike stood on the side- 
walk and Frank wanted to tell him what he had seen, 
but he somehow felt that the miller’s impulsive assist- 


86 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


ant would so act as to imperil the chance of following 
the clue. 

“I wish Hoover was here,” thought the volunteer 
detective. 

“Hello, Frank,” exclaimed Alpha. “This your 
first turn at the drill.” 

“Yes. I could not be at the company drill eight 
weeks ago, because I hurt my foot the day before and 
couldn’t use it much.” 

“Fall in,” shouted the colonel of the regiment, as 
he rode up the street. 

“O yes ! O yes ! ” echoed a company officer, stand- 
ing a little distance from Frank, “all belonging to 
Captain Eawford’s company, fall in.” 

The roll of drums now began to resound through 
the avenue. 

“That means us,” said the miller bojL 

“Wish I was a drummer or fifer,” blurted Ezra 
Sheres. “I would get two dollars todajT’ 

“An ord’nary fife wouldn’t do for }^ou,” objected a 
stalwart young farmer. “ You’d need one made special 
out of a holler log, so as to fit 3 r our mouth.” 

Ezra glowered at the speaker, but the issue of a 
fight would have been almost hopelessly against him, 
and as the company was forming in line he did not 
wish to make extra trouble for himself. 

The companion of Galwix was passing in front of 
the companjL 

“Who is that man?” asked Frank of his right 
hand neighbor. 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


87 


“Levi Gatt. Why?” And the speaker eyed the 
youth rather sharply. 

The stock response to such a query is, “O, nothing-,” 
and such a reply indeed came to Frank’s mind. But 
he checked the impulse in season. 

“I thoug-ht he must be a strang-er in our country. 
I heard a man asking- who he was.” 

“No, he don’t belong- on our side, thoug-h I have 
saw him here a time or two. Comes from about 
Uniontown, so they say.” 

The roll was presently called, and the names of 
absentees were pricked with a pin. 

“Cornelius Hepp,” called the officer. 

“There g-oes the pin,” whispered the man next to 
Frank. “ I seen Nele this morning-. He could ’a ben 
here. He’ll have to ’pear before a court martial, or 
the sheriff will collect seventy-five cents fine off 
of him.” 

The companies were marched to the parade ground, 
a ten-acre field lying- just behind the alley, which 
paralleled the street. A few hours were spent in 
training exercises and in the burning of powder, the 
men keeping step to the inspiring music of drum and 
fife. There is something in the military port, as the 
footsteps move in unison with the strains of a martial 
air, which makes the person feel himself more a man 
and capable of greater achievement than if the soldier 
instinct were absent from the human race. 

But when the evolutions came to an end, few of the 
militia were in any hurry to go home. It was a gala 
day, an event of the year, and there was a prevalent 


88 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


disposition to abandon themselves to a round of frolic 
and disspation. Even at three cents a glass, the 
vendors of liquor were reaping- a harvest of coin. 

It did not elude Frank’s notice that Levi Gatt could 
g-enerally be seen talking with some person who 
showed more or less overt symptoms of intoxication. 
Ezra Sheres was similarly employed, and Frank won- 
dered how many- more were engaged in the same 
mysterious activity. But as for Galwix he seemed an 
idle spectator, with no other thoug-ht than that of 
enjoying- the scene from some comfortable point of 
vantag-e, or of acting- the gallant with some female 
acquaintance. 

“Frank,” whispered Alpha Hite, “if anybody 
wants a dollar in chang-e of 3 r ou, don’t yon g-ive it. I 
have an idea there’s some bad money passing- round 
today-.” 

But Frank was not asked to make chang-e, and 
neither was Alpha. Was there any sig-nificance in 
this ? ” 

“Hullo, bo}V’ exclaimed a man made insolent by 
liquor, as he strode up in front of Ezra Sheres. 
“Better shet thet big- mouth o’ j^our’n er some dog- 
mig-ht jump in an’ g-it swallered.” 

Stung- to fury by the taunt Ezra struck the man 
with all his force, and sent him reeling- ag-ainst a 
house wall. 

“Good for you, boy,” shouted several of the by- 
standers. 

“Hold on there, dad, leave him be,” exclaimed a 
young- man, rushing forward. “I’ll trim ’im up. I 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


89 


like to fig-lit. You are not steady ’nough in the legs. 
Here, Caff, take a feller near yer own age. How 
many flies you catched today in that flytrap ? ” 

The pugilist followed his polite inquiry with a blow 
of his fist, and the compliment was swiftly returned 
with a very coarse epithet. The young men continued 
at the exhilarating exercise of pounding their black- 
guardism into one another until the bully was finally 
worsted. 

“ You licked me,” admitted the assailant. “Didn’t 
think you could. Come in the tavern and take a drink.” 

“Let’s go to the well first and wash off,” proposed 
Ezra. 

The combatants adjourned to the pump, and each 
worked the handle while the other washed his bruised 
and bloody £ace at the spout. There was a second 
adjournment to the tavern bar, where they forgot 
their differences in the flowing bowl. 

This passage at arms was by no means a solitary 
case. Other brawls occured and there were not a few 
blackened eyes, puffed cheeks, and bleeding noses. 
Yet there ‘was never any sequel of shooting or stab- 
bing. As the day waned the air vibrated with the 
drunken shouts of men going to their homes. The 
muster day, with its disgusting aftermath of drunk- 
enness and liquor-inspired fights was drawing to a close. 

“Ashbel,” said Frank, to his next older brother, 
“you lead my horse home. I am going to stay over 
Sunday near here.” 


VIII 


POINTING TO A STAR. 

No man is born into the world whose work is not born with him. 

— Lowell. 

When Frank left home in the morning, his thoughts 
were not wholly on the drill. He had another pur- 
pose in mind, the nature of which will present^ appear. 

“Mr. Galdwell, I have been stud) T ing over what 
you told me about the academy. I want to see what 
I can do about going to school there this fall, and 
earning my way.’’ 

The aspiring } T outh was addressing the teacher 
acquaintance he had met a few da}^s before. 

“I am pleased to see you think well of that notion,” 
replied Gladwell. “Now I’ll tell you what. There’s 
no chance to get anybody’s attention today, but you 
stay 'over here till Monday and I’ll take ) t ou around. 
I’d have you go home with me, but we are full up just 
now. Here, Shirley, come over.” 

A youth a little younger than Frank came across 
the street. 

“Shirley, this is Frank Colbert, from the Ball set- 
tlement. He is going to the academy, and wants to 
make some arrangements before he goes home. I’d 
take him out with me, but there’s folks visiting us. 
Can’t he stay over Sunday with you ? Frank, this is 
Shirley Moreland.” 

“How’d you do,” replied Shirley. “Why, ye s, he 
can stay with me, and welcome, if he’s a mind to share 
my bed.” 


LAND OF THK LAURFL. 


91 


“ That will be all right,” said Frank. 

“ Much obliged to you, Shirley,” replied the teacher. 
“Now, Frank, I’ll be along Monday morning early, 
and then we’ll come up town.” 

Frank looked up his brother and turned his horse 
over to him, after which he accompanied Shirley to 
the Moreland farm, about one mile from the village. 
His talkative host kept up a running fire of desultory 
conversation, and Frank was rapidly becoming enlight- 
ened as to the people of the vicinity and their farms. 

The Moreland home was an old log building, not so 
commodious as the Colbert house. The family circle 
was very small, only Shirley’s mother and her par- 
ents being present. The mother was even more talk- 
ative than the son, and Frank found no reason to 
complain of his welcome in the home where he was 
for the first time to pass a night away from the 
neighborhood. 

“ Let’s go to the Quaker church, huh ?” suggested 
Shirley after the Sunday morning chores had been 
dispatched. “ Never gone there yet, have you ? ” 

“I’ve never been inside any regular church at all,” 
replied Frank. “Out where I live the preaching is 
in the schoolhouse, and it comes only once a month. 
Yes, I’ll go with you.” 

At nine o’clock the young friends set out for the 
church, going by way of the village. The most east- 
ern dwelling in Brandonville was a small brick house 
abutting on the road. In front of it was a long 
wooden pole, with a stone weight at one end and a 


92 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


rope at the other, with which the beam could be drawn 
down to close the highway. 

“This is the tollgate and tollhouse,” explained 
Shirley. “We are on foot and they can’t take any- 
thing off of us, huh ? It is eight cents on a wagon 
going to Bruceton and seventy-five cents to the 
National Road.” 

The frowning pole disappeared long ago, and only 
the dwelling remains as a mute witness to a clumsy, 
inequitable and antiquated method of maintaining a 
“mud pike” that was barely superior to the better 
“country roads” of the same region today. 

The pedestrians walked eastward two miles, pass- 
ing fields on one side or the other for the entire dis- 
tance. These farms had been carved out of the wil- 
derness a half century before, and some of them were 
owned by Quakers whose homeland was the district 
colonized by the followers of William Penn. The 
same methods which have made that region the gar- 
den of Pennsylvania were carried to the valley of the 
Sandy. To their agricultural thrift these people 
added an esteem for education which was not then 
usual on the Alleghany Highlands. 

“Now we can see the church,” announced Shirley 
from the crest of a low elevation. “It is a little on 
yon side of that stone farmhouse, huh ? The first 
church this side of Cheat used to stand on the farm 
we are coming to now. Beyond the Quaker church it 
is nothing but woods for three miles.” 

The church was the only one belonging to the 
Society of Friends in this part of Virginia. It was a 


LAND OF THF LATJRFL. 


93 


log structure of quite ample size, and the young visi- 
tor wondered at the low partition running lengthwise 
through the room and separating the sexes. He won- 
dered still more at the total absence of singing, for 
having been accustomed to no other religious services 
than those of the Methodists, he supposed singing, of 
the most enthusiastic sort, to be a necessary feature 
of divine worship. He was no less puzzled to see the 
congregation sit awhile in absolute silence, and then 
without the offering of a prayer or a reading of Scrip- 
ture, to see one of the members suddenly arise and 
deliver a not very long discourse, couched in very 
biblical language. The war-suggestive exercises of 
the preceeding day were an offense in the eyes of 
these peace-loving Quakers, and this feeling found 
expression in their spokesman. The close of the sim- 
ple mode of worship was as abrupt as the beginning. 

The old church has long since disappeared, and 
though many descendants of the Quaker settlers 
remain in the vicinity, the mutatioils of time, so very 
striking in this neighborhood, have caused the organ- 
ization to become extinct. 

‘ ‘ Tonight, ” said Shirley during the return, ‘ ‘ we’ll go 
up to the frame church in Brandonville. There’ll be 
preaching. There was class this morning. They 
have a doorkeeper for class meeting. You can go in 
once, but if you don’t join class they won’t let you in 
afterwards, huh ? There’s talk of building a big 
brick church next year.” 

The time of which we write was a period when con- 
siderations of weather or of personal ease did not 


94 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


lightly keep people from going to church. There 
were visiting guests in the village, and the very plain, 
modest-looking structure was well filled. In the amen 
corner sat Henry Biggins, the merchant, whose fine 
voice led in the singing. 

Stephen Gladwell was as good as his word. He 
appeared at the Moreland home before Frank was 
done with his breakfast, and the friends went up to 
the village. There was still a Sunday quiet on the 
street. Only a few persons were moving about, and 
one of them was removing some debris occasioned by an 
excess of activity on the part of a drunken militiaman. 

“I will take you to Henry Biggins,” said Gladwell. 
“I see him unlocking his store right now. You must 
not think there’s anything wrong if he seems distant 
to 3 r ou at first. He is a little slow to get acquainted 
with, but } r ou will find him all right if he thinks you 
are deserving.” 

Gladwell followed the merchant into the store. 

“Mr. Biggins, this is Frank Colbert, son of Joseph 
Colbert, out in the Ball settlement.” 

“I know Joseph Colbert,” replied Biggins. “He 
is a good citizen, so far as I ever heard. What can I 
do for you, 3^oung man ? ” 

Henry Biggins turned a cool, penetrating look on 
the 3 r outh. Gladwell had indeed given a correct ac- 
count of the man. 

“I want some better schooling than I can get at 
home,” replied Frank. “I want to go to the academy 
here, and thought 3^ou might show me where I could 
earn some money this summer when farm work is not 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


95 


too pushing-; and perhaps make my board, or some of 
it, after school begins.” 

“ Do } r ou think } r ou have got all you can out of your 
home school ? ” 

“I can speak for that,” interposed Gladwell. 
“ Billson, the man who taught out there last winter, 
gave me a full account of him. He told me Prank 
was a great reader and very proficient in school, and 
studied branches no one else did. Billson is not 
going to teach there again, and there wouldn’t be any 
use in Frank’s going there any more. Billson took a 
special interest in him, and Frank wants to improve 
himself so as to be a surveyor, or something of that 
sort.” 

“Never been away from home yet ?” queried Big- 
gins. 

“No.” 

“Does it make any material difference what the 
work is, so long as it is proper employment ? ” 

“I don’t think it will.” 

“Then I will have something for you in about a 
week. The first thing will be hauling coke for the 
foundry from the other side of Little . Sandy. The 
pay will be ten dollars per month and found, not reck- 
oning in the time you take off for helping at home. 
You may come next Wednesday week.” 

“I want to thank you,” said Frank somewhat awk- 
wardly, as he stood in the open doorway, on the point 
of taking his leave. 

“Don’t mention it,” replied Mr. Biggins, going to 
his desk. 


96 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


Gladwell accompanied the youth to the border of 
the village. 

“ Henr}^ Biggins is making a place for j^ou,” said the 
teacher. “That is why he does not have any work 
for you right now. If you do your work all right, 
it will amount to something to you.” 

The aspiring youth pressed the hand of his friend 
and resumed the descent toward Bruceton. 

Since his visit to mill, only six days before, it 
seemed to Frank that he had alread}^ been favored 
with a large glimpse into the outer world. The day 
of the muster was relatively as great an event to him, 
at eighteen, as the grand review at the national capi- 
tal at the age of thirt3 r -five. He had seen Brandon- 
ville before, but it never meant as much to him as it 
did now. The bustling village was a suggestion of 
the busy city, and in the well-kept farms he formed a 
portrait of what he supposed true of the old common- 
wealths beyond the mountains. These few daj T s had 
rapidly awakened Frank to the serious questions of 
life, and the feeling was taking hold of him that he 
ought soon to leave his quiet farm home in the 
mountains. 

Within sight of Bruceton was a water trough, the 
supply issuing from an old milkhouse in a ravin cross- 
ing the road. The hillside above was partially in 
wood. Frank turned aside to drink from the spout. 

“ Suppose you come in here a few minutes.” 

Looking upward the face of Hoover was seen amid 
the bushes. Without hesitation Frank climbed the 
bank. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


97 


“I have been wanting- to see you again,” he 
declared. 

“Indeed.” 

“Why, I’ve seen some funny things since you were 
out our way.’’ 

“ And you had an idea I could tell ? ” 

“I thought so.’’ 

“Well, I don’t know as to that. So you are just 
getting home from the muster ?’’ 

“Yes, but I didn’t see you there.” 

“ People can be in places without being seen.” 

Here was a riddle, and boylike Prank wished to ask 
what it mean.t. But his intuition told him that when 
Hoover saw fit to make an ambiguous statement, it 
was done purposely. 

“You were in town over Sunday?’’ continued the 
man. 

“Near there, at Moreland’s. I wanted to see about 
going to school up here next fall, and there was no 
chance to talk to anybody on muster day. I think 
now I can go. Mr. Biggins has given me some work 
this summer.’’ 

“How much liquor did you drink Saturday? ’’ 

“Not a drop,” was the emphatic response. “Dad 
would trim me up if he knew of me drinking.” 

“Don’t he keep liquor in the house?” 

“Yes, a little. But it don’t get touched for days 
and days at a time.” 

“Don’t you smoke and chew?” 

“No, dad’s much opposed to that, and I don’t care 
anything for it myself.” 


98 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“What’s the use in being- odd? Don’t you see that 
nearly everybody else drinks and chews, and so on?” 

“Yes, but that’s no reason why I should.” 

“No, Frank, it isn’t. And let me tell you some- 
thing. I’m not giving you advice, for that is some- 
thing most people don’t heed until they have got 
scorched. Then is the time they think of it. But I’ll 
sa} r this: if you keep on as you have begun and avoid 
bad company and things that don’t look right, you 
will lose nothing that is worth keeping, and you will 
not onlj" be thought more of by the best people, but 
3^ou will be a more efficient man in every way. Don’t 
forget that. Now, what did ) r ou think of 'the muster?” 

All this while the character reader had been watch- 
ing Frank narrowly. 

“O, that was fine,” said the } r outh, his eyes spark- 
ling. “It interested me more than anything else I 
ever saw. When I am some older I would like to be 
one of the officers. I wish there was a muster next 
Saturday; only I didn’t like to see the fighting and 
rowdyism.” 

“Would you like to be an army officer, Frank?” 

“I think I wouldn’t care at all.” 

This response was intended as an affirmation. 

“Do ) r ou think it praiseworthy to kill people in 
war? ’ ’ pursued Hoover. 

“ I think it might be, sometimes. I think it was 
right when we fought England.” 

When people look for trouble they find it, ’ ’ resumed 
the stranger. “Now, why not wait till the occasion 


land of the laurel. 


99 


comes for a just war, instead of going out of your 
way to learn the trade of killing people ? ” 

“If people all thought that way,” argued the youth, 
“our country never would be ready to defend itself as 
it ought to, when some other country was ready to 
jump on us.” 

“Did you ever hear of West Point?” now inquired 
Hoover. 

“Yes, but I don’t know much about it.” 

“ It is the school where the national government 
educates officers for the army. The cadets, as they 
are called, are appointed by the Congressmen. The 
school is very strict, but it makes a man out of a 
cadet. He is allowed three hundred dollars a year for 
his expenses. The cadet studies four years and then 
becomes a second lieutenant in the regular army. If 
he continues to be a capable man he may remain in 
the army all his life, practically, and he rises from 
one grade to another.” 

“Would there be any chance for me?” excaimed 
Frank. “I know I would like that.” 

“Yes, there is a possibility; but don’t go to building 
up too big hopes on it. If you get disappointed, the 
tumbling down will not hurt you so much. Now, you 
go home and make ready to go with me to Kingwood 
day after tomorrow morning — Wednesday. Be on foot; 
no horse. Can you get to Bruceton by eight o’clock?” 

“Yes, indeed. I can get started away from home 
by five.” 

“Then meet me on the Kingwood road one mile out 
from Bruceton. Look for me at a big oak on the left 


L.ofC. 


100 


land of the laurel. 


side of the road. Your dad won’t object to your going 
with me. Tell your parents what I have said about 
West Point, but don’t let another soul know. While 
we go to Kingwood, I will tell you more about the 
school, and — we can talk over things.” 

There was a significance in the concluding remark, 
which did not evade Frank’s notice. 

While crossing a belt of woodland near his home, 
the 3 T outh espied Galwix descending a path which he 
knew led to a particular spot on the river. He was 
not himself observed; he was sure of that. But he 
was near enough to notice a black box which the man 
carried in his hand. He was sure he would recognize 
that box if he saw it again. 



IX 


AT THE COUNTY SKAT. 

A friendship which makes the least noise is very often the 
most useful. — Addison. 

“Frank,” said Joseph Colbert, the ensuing- even- 
ing-, “I am in favor of that man’s idea. You are 
cut out for the army. I have noticed that myself. 
Well, you come of soldier stock. My father was a 
serg-eant in the war of ’12 and my grandfather was a 
captain in the Revolution. I never heard of anyone 
being- sent from our county to West Point. We have 
just elected a Preston man to Congress — Willard B. 
Downs — and I know he would be glad to make an 
appointment from our county. You must see him 
when you g-o up to King-wood. I have met Mr. 
Downs and I think he will remember me. You will 
have to pull up some on your schooling-, though, 
before you can g-et into West Point. Now when you 
g-o to King-wood, you ride a horse as far as Bruceton 
mill and let Oscar lead it back.” 

The sun rises early on the last day of May, but it 
was not yet peering- over the crest of Laurel Hill 
when the brothers rode out of the farmyard. It was 
still early when they entered the little villag-e, since 
the morning- fog- had not risen from the meadows 
along- the Sandy. Without losing- a minute Frank 
g-ave his horse to his brother and resumed his jour- 
ney. Near a large oak he found the mysterious 
Hoover resting on a log. 

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” smiled 
Frank, as he came up. 


102 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“Not over five minutes,” was the reply. “That 
is the way to keep an appointment. A little allow- 
ance in time is sometimes necessary, especially in a 
case like this, because your clock and my watch may 
not be togeher. But apart from that consideration, 
no person has a right to waste another one’s time, 
even if he does waste his own time. Well, Frank, 
what did your people say to that idea ?”• 

“ They favor it very much.” 

“And what do )^ou think of it by this time ?” 

“Every bit as favorable as I was Monday.” 

“Well, at Little Sandy crossing- we come to where 
John Lott lives, and we will talk with him. He is 
the Delegate from this county to the state assembly.” 

As they walked along- Hoover explained to his com- 
panion the purpose of the West Point Militar}^ Acad- 
emy, the duties required of the cadets, and the man- 
ner in which appointments are secured. John Lott 
was merchant as well as farmer, and was found alone 
in his small frame store. He was a man of consider- 
ation and influence, and bore the name of being 
upright. 

Hoover, whom the merchant appeared to have seen 
before, introduced his companion. 

“Mr. Lott,” he continued, “here is a bright, hon- 
est, capable young man, and he is contriving some 
way to educate himself. He has an aptitude for 
engineering work, and a strong leaning toward a 
military- career. Wouldn’t you like to use your in- 
fluence with Mr. Downs toward getting him into 
West Point?” 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


103 


“I see no reason to object,” replied Lott. “I hap- 
pen to know Joseph Colbert, and he is a very worthy 
man. I may see Mr. Downs before long-, but I shall 
not wait for that. I’ll write him a letter and do all 
I can to make the thing go.” 

The tarry at the store was brief, for even the ferry 
across the Cheat was ten miles away. The interven- 
ing district is unusually smooth for West Virginia, 
but to Frank there was an unfavorable comparison 
with the farms owned by the Quakers. The fields 
were small, fences of brush instead of rails were com- 
mon, and the dwelling house was often a roughly 
constructed cabin of round logs, the clapboards of 
the roof being held down by weight poles. The pre- 
dominance of woodland was very striking, but even 
in the county as a whole not more than one acre in 
seven had yet been redeemed from the forest. 

“Out toward the river there used to be an old 
powder mill,” observed Frank. “I remember going 
there with dad when I was very small. They wan’t 
running the mill any more, but they still made a 
little powder by hand. The building is mighty nigh 
rotted down now.” 

“I know of it,” replied Hoover. “It is the old 
Graham mill in the Jenkins settlement. Over here 
to our left is what looks like a lime heap, but it is 
where they burn coke for the stove foundry. When 
we come to the Muddy creek bridge, we’ll not be far 
from the wooden bridge built higher up the stream 
four years ago, where they make cassinet for a dollar 


104 


LAND OF THE LAUREL- 


a yard. Well, is there anything- new or strange up 
in your settlement ? ” 

“O, things go on about the same old way, I be- 
lieve. There’s to be a houseraising down nigh the 
river. Omer Gull is going to marry one of the Sid- 
well girls — Polly.” 

Hoover’s face was always impassive, but if Frank 
had viewed it closely just then he might have de- 
tected an air of disappointment. The older person 
changed his tactics. 

“Was your visit to Brandonville the other day the 
first one.” 

“No, but it was the first time I was there in 
nearly three years. We don’t have so much call to 
go there now, since Bruceton has been coming up. 
We go to mill at Bruceton. Say — you remember that 
John Galwix ? ” 

There was now more satisfaction on Hooover’s 
countenance. The strategy had begun to tell. 

“Galwix?” he inquired. “Who is he?” 

“Why, you’ll remember him,” exclaimed Frank, 
with an air of both wonderment and impatience. 
“It was that stranger to our settlement who come in 
at the spelling match, and went to shaking hands 
with ever} r body; sort of slick talking fellow; Pep- 
permint John, some call him.” 

“Belongs over in Pennsylvania?’’ 

“That’s what people think.” 

“Then I recollect him,” answered Hoover in a tone 
of entire indifference. 

“Why, yes; I saw you looking at him pretty sharp. 


A STORE OF THE OEDEN TIME Phot'd by C. S. Rexroad. 








LAFD OF THF FAURFF- 


105 


“Well, yesterday a week I was down to Bruceton 
mill, and Alpha Hike and me saw him and Kzra 
Sheres through a chink in the logs. Galwix gave 
Kzra some big silver. When they came in Alpli 
asked Kzra what they were up to. Kzra looked 
scared and denied it right square up and down, but 
Galwix just laughed and said it was all so. Alph 
tried to get a gun trade out of Kzra so as to make 
him show his coin, but couldn’t get him to. Galwix 
said he loaned him the money. Kzra Sheres don’t 
have the best sort of name out in the settlement. 
He’s the fellow that sort of made fun of you the day 
you came to the schoolhouse.” 

“Yes, I recall his face and all about him.” 

Frank now told his subsequent observations of Gal- 
wix, Gatt and Sheres, but not a little to his surprise 
and even chagrin, Hoover did not follow with the 
comments he anticipated. 

“Do you think you have anything positive against 
those fellows ? ” he inquired. 

“Well, no, I don’t suppose there is.” 

“ No, ” replied Hoover, “you have nothing more 
than suspicion. You are not sure that it is well 
founded. Therefore it behooves you or any on6 else 
in")- our place to move with caution, or you might 
work injustice to those you suspect, and perhaps get 
yourself in trouble for nothing. The law presumes a 
person innocent till he is found guilty. And then an 
innocent person’s character can easily be harmed by 
gossip. Sometimes gossip has something behind it, 
and sometimes it hasn’t. People are more inclined 


106 


land of thf laurel. 


to keep a harmful report moving- along than they are 
to look into it. You have done entirely right so far, 
in keeping your opinions to yurself.” 

“ But I don’t believe Galwix and that other man 
Gatt are straight,” objected Frank. 

“No matter what you only believe. You must be 
sure,” declared his companion. 

“I couldn’t help thinking you had an eye on Gal- 
wix that night at the spelling match,” declared 
Frank, coming to the point. 

“Why, what put such a thing as that into } T our 
head ? ” 

“I saw 3 7 ou e3 7 eing him.” 

“ Perhaps I did observe him somewhat, but then 
you must bear in mind he was a stranger, and differ- 
ent from the people in the settlement. I don’t think 
3 t ou heard me talk about him at your house.” 

“ I don’t know that I did,” admitted Frank, now 
placed on the defensive. “But there was one thing 
more. You didn’t spell so very well at the match, 
but 3 r ou did not miss a word on the paper 3 t ou wrote 
for me.” 

“ That proves nothing more than spelling on paper 
is a ver3 7 different thing from spelling by the mouth. 
Let those persons that spelled the best that night 
spell on paper and the chances are they would make 
a good many mistakes. Did you know that fact?” 

“Why, no.” 

“It is true,” insisted Hoover. “In the one case 
you depend on 3 r our ear and in the other case on your 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


107 


eye, and that makes a difference with many people. 
I am not used to spelling- matches myself.” 

“ But you have such a good education, and yet 
you wear such rough clothes,” now demurred the 
youth. 

“A person that’s been over the country a good 
deal picks up a considerable amount of what passes for 
education, althoug-h he may have little to start with. 
And as for the clothes, that proves nothing. Some 
of the great English writers have been dirty as pigs 
in their dress and habits.” 

Frank became silent. He had made several as- 
saults on the mystery of the man, but felt that the 
outworks alone had foiled his every attempt. The 
citadel remained intact. 

“Let me say this to you, Frank,” continued 
Hoover, “ when you find a person doing- the thing’s, 
that don’t look right, you want to be very careful 1 
who 3^ou tell about it — very careful. You don’t know 
who may be in leag-ue with him. Persons you don’t 
dream of may be his partners. He ma3 r stand in with 
people in hig-h position. Anyhow 3ml might scare 
him off instead of g-etting- him brought to justice. 
You must be sure of 3 T Our ground before you tackle 
him, or he might make trouble for 3 t ou.” 

“Wh3^, I wouldn’t know who to tell at all,” ex- 
claimed the puzzled youth. 

“ All 3 t ou can do is to use your very best judgment,” 
replied the man. 

“ But suppose I find out something sure on Galwix 
and the other fellow ? ” 


108 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


“Write all about it to an address I will give you, 
and wait till you hear from the letter. And don’t 
tell people what I have told you or tell them you 
have been with me. I don’t want you to lie about 
that or anything else, only don’t go out of your way 
to tell people.” 

“I will do as you say,” assured Frank, “but are 
you going to be round this country long ? ” 

“I may not be; there’s no telling.” 

“I wish you were,” said Frank very earnestly. 

Hoover now proceeded to say many things about 
the law and the duties of county officers. Frank did 
not see at the time the motive of his companion in 
discussing these matters so minutely, yet he after- 
ward found such knowledge very useful. 

At midday the wayfarers had reached Snider’s 
ferry, where they were to cross the Cheat. The 
bordering hills were not found so high as in the 
vicinity of Frank’s home, and there was a margin of 
bottom land. On either bank was a solitary log 
house. The occupant of the nearer dwelling, a 
small, youngish man, was standing, with some light- 
haired bo3^s near the water’s edge. 

“Want over ?” he inquired. “Boat’s on yon side 
and perhaps I can make Snider hear better than you, 
because I am used to calling him.” 

The man gave a shrill call and in a few moments 
the ferryman was seen approaching a rowboat. 

“The stage can’t cross here always, Mr. White ? ” 
suggested Hoover. 

“No, indeed. When the river raises very high, it 


D AND OF THK DAURKD. 


109 


is such a fury that boats daren’t cross, sometimes, for 
two or three days; and there’s not much of the time 
you can cross on the ice. The current is so swift it 
takes a great deal of cold to freeze it tight. Last 
winter a company was chartered to build a bridge at 
this place, and it was given two years to begin the 
work.” 

The Cheat is a narrow stream and in a few min- 
utes the ferryman had made the crossing. Another 
brief period and the travelers stepped out on the sand 
at the farther side. 

“ What’s the ferriage for two ? ” inquired Hoover. 

“ Fippenny-bit.” 

“ Wh)-, I had my money for him. Here,” exclaimed 
Frank, diving into his pocket, while they were climb- 
ing the bank. 

“Keep your money, boy,” said Hoover, with a 
wave of the hand. “I asked you to come with me, 
and I stand good for expenses. Now let’s have lunch.” 

They paused only a few minutes to eat what they 
carried in their pockets. 

“ We better move,” remarked the leader. “It will 
stiffen us if we stop very long. We can make King- 
wood in another hour.” 

The road was mainly an up-grade, and made a 
ver} r considerable ascent to the ridge where the county 
seat stands. 

The immediate vicinage of Kingwood is now almost 
wholly deforested, although the primeval wood is in 
part replaced by numerous shade trees. The houses 
are generally quite modern, at least in outward appear- 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


110 


ance, and for beauty of situation and general appear- 
ance the town has no superior in its own state. 

But the Kingwood of 1848 was strikingly different. 
It was quite hemmed in by the original forest. A 
little beyond the western edge lay a wooded elevation, 
known as Beverly hill, from its being crossed by the 
highway leading to the former county town of Ran- 
dolph. Eastward from the cultivated field lying at 
its base, and scattered along two parallel streets run- 
ning toward the Cheat, were a little more than thirty 
dwelling houses, some of frame and some of log. 
Paint was conspicuous only by its absence. Shade 
trees were few, and a paling fence was much less com- 
mon than the ugly zigzag partition of rails. 

It was not in fact possible for pedestrians to see 
any village until they were quite close upon it. On 
emerging from the last and rather extensive belt of 
woodland, they came to a bridge spanning a ravine 
and just beyond was the first house of the village 
proper. 

“Don’t think I ever saw you before. What might 
be your name?” inquired an old gentleman, whom 
they overtook near the solitary house eastward of the 
ravine. 

“Hoover. What is yours?” replied the person 
addressed, who meant that the information asked for 
should be returned in kind. 

“Walbridge; David Walbridge. I live at the log 
mill you passed between here and Snider’s ferr) T . Do 
you know the big stone house up on the left side of 
the road? ” 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


Ill 


“No, whose is it?” inquired Hoover. 

“ It was built for General Fairfax by Colonel John 
Fairfax, his father. The Colonel was a friend of 
Washington, and came out here on his advice and 
settled in this country. He was a prominent man, 
and pretty well off, too ; and the stone house still en- 
tertains the best society in all this region. You see 
it is not the custom of Virginia planters to build their 
homes right in a town, but a little outside. Well, do 
you think there’s any chance to lose yourself up here 
in Kingwood?” pursued the old man, with a smile. 

“I have been here before, but didn’t have much 
time to explore the town,” replied Hoover. 

“I have seen the time when there was not a house 
here at all,’’ continued the miller. “This road that 
runs through the town is an old state road. Where 
the court house is now there used to be a camping 
ground for the settlers that were going through. 
There were some very big trees on the ground at that 
time, and the spot got to be known as the King-wood. 
The first houses were built forty-one years ago, and 
the town was laid out four years later. Then when 
our county was laid off, just seven years after that, 
it became the count} 7 seat.” 

“Is it incorporated?’’ asked Hoover. 

“No, but they are talking of that. The first court- 
house was a log building that had been put up for a 
store. It was painted with this red clay paint from 
the paint bank out in the glades. That’s why they 
called it the old red courthouse. The whole thing 
was only twenty-five feet square, and the jury room 


112 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


was not big 1 enough for the men to sit down in. The 
clerk’s office was in one corner of the courtroom. 
The first jail was log, too, and it was set afire b) r some 
prisoners that broke out. There was a whipping post 
stood in front of the jail then. We’d better have it 
now. There’s some fellows that need a dose of that 
sort. There was preaching in the courthouse for sev- 
eral years.’’ 

Hoover and his companion kept on to a house at the 
end of the street. The avenue was bordered by only 
about ten buildings, including a small church and a 
small academy, both of brick. 

“ Queer looking house,” observed Frank, as they 
came to their journey’s end. 

“Yes, it is frame but not weatherboarded. The 
gaps between the timbers are chinked in with stones 
and mortar. A Dutchman built it. He said it was 
the way they did in the old country. People named 
Charlton live here now. You sta)^ with them till Fri- 
day. You may feel a little sore and stiff when } t ou 
wake up in the morning. We wfill wash, rest a few 
minutes, and then go over on the other street.” 

The straggling village appeared very rural to 
Frank, and the dwelling they entered, standing as it 
did in the edge of a field, did not appear noticeably 
different to him from a farmhouse. But while using 
a towel on the rear porch he was struck with an odd 
contrivance in the kitchen. It was a landmark in the 
experimentation out of which was evolved the present 
cooking range. The circular top, in which were a 
half dozen potholes of varying size, was furnished 


LAND OP THP LAUREL. 


113 


with a cogged rim underneath and made to rotate, 
when desired, by means of a crank and pinwheel. A 
negro boy was washing the dishes. He was the first 
African the youth had gazed upon, and it did not 
seem possible that the sooty skin could be clean. It 
looked as though it could smut whatever it came in 
contact with, and Frank was not well pleased with 
the prospect of sitting at the dinner table. The only 
other occupant of the apartment was an old woman 
smoking a cob pipe. 

After a short rest Hoover led the way to the busi- 
ness street of the little town. A first visit to New 
York could scarcely have afforded his companion a 
higher degree of curious interest. New York was 
something distant, unreal and inconceivable. But 
Kingwood was the seat of government of the 
only world that was tangible to him. To his mind 
the county seat was invested with a livety importance. 

“Let’s look in the courthouse,” suggested Hoover. 
“It will interest you.” 

The court}^ard was inclosed by a tight plank fence, 
except that palings were substituted for plank at the 
front end. The gateway opened on a platform 
ascended by three steps. Above was a protecting 
roof. In the midst of the courtyard and surrounded 
by locust trees was the courthouse of gray sandstone, 
a really modest structure though decidedly imposing 
to the inexperienced youth. The ceilings of the two- 
storied edifice were low. Two narrow stairways led 
to the three jury rooms on the upper floor. The 
remaining portion of the first floor was occupied 


114 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


merely by the courtroom and the clerk’s office. The 
latter apartment was no larger than the small sitting 1 
room where the visitors had been resting-. Within 
was a solitary man writing- in a ponderous book. Other 
similar volumes, dingy and battered throug-h age and 
wear, were resting- on their shelves, whence they dis- 
appeared in ashes twenty-one years later. Hoover 
explained to his friend the necessity of these records 
and then g-ave him a glimpse of the courtroom, which 
appeared to the country boy like an enlarg-ed and 
improved specimen of schoolroom. The most incon- 
gruous feature was the presence on either side of an 
elevated box reached by steps. 

“When the sheriff opens court,” explained Hoover, 
“ he g-oes up into one of those boxes. That makes 
the occasion seem all the more impressive. Now, do 
you think of anj r person who might some day be tried 
in this room ? ” 

“I think I do,” was the immediate response. 

“Scarcely here — in this room,” commented Hoover. 
“ A federal court would be the place.” 

There was a working of the man’s features. When 
he smiled the expression was significant. Yet to the 
boy the comment and the smile were one more of 
Hoover’s emigmas. 

They went to the rear of the courthouse and looked 
upon the stone jail, at the front of which was a 
rougly constructed double porch with an exterior stair 
way leading to the upper floor. A coarse face lured 
at the observers through a barred window. 

“ Say, you fellows, there. Got a chaw terbacker ? ” 


LAND OF THK LAURFL. 


115 


“Don’t keep the stuff,” muttered Hoover, turning 
away and motioning- to his friend. 

The courtyard was flanked on the left by a store 
that was very small, like all the other mercantile 
building-s in the village and county. On the right 
was a stone structure bearing the sign, “ Union Hotel.” 

The first building they now entered was a store 
containing also the postoffice. The postmaster, a 
small, lithe man, about twenty-eight years of age, 
stepped forward and took Hoover’s hand with a rec- 
ognizing smile. 

“I am glad to see you again, Mr. Hoover.” 

“The same to you, Captain Darrell. And now if 
you please, I would like to sit down at your private 
corner. I have had a long walk this morning.” 

“Why, yes; come around. I will find a seat. This 
is a friend, I suppose ? ” 

Hoover made the necessary introduction, and fol- 
lowed by Frank passed around the counter to a seat 
indicated by the merchant. There were no customers 
present, and the youth quickly perceived that his com- 
panion had made his fatigue an excuse for gaining a 
more private interview. 

“Well,” remarked Hoover, “the Mexican war is 
now over and our people are thoroughly victorious. 
It seems } r ou did not get to see the affair.” 

“I raised a company in ’46,” replied Darrell. “But 
the state’s quota was full, and we did not go. A very 
few Prestonians got into the army, however, but poor 
Grimes was shot in the ver}^ first engagement.” 

“If they did not make an active soldier out of you,’’ 


116 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


pursued Hoover, “what do } r ou think of having- this 
young man go to West Point ? ” 

“There is the making of a soldier in him, I should 
say,” replied Darrell giving the subject of his remark 
a very approving glance. 

“He lacks nothing more than some further school- 
ing,’’ said Hoover. “That deficiency can be brought 
up, because appointments are alwa3 r s made a year 
before one is admitted. By that time he could pass 
the examinations. He expects to attend the Brandon- 
ville academy next winter.” 

“Why not attend ours?” suggested Darrell. “We 
have a good principal — a college graduate — and I 
think the 3 r oung man could have an opportunity to 
earn his way, if that would be an object.” 

“It would be an object,” affirmed Hoover. “Well, 
he can choose between the two academies. But is 
Congressman Downs at home?” 

“No; and he will not be back for awhile. I will 
speak in Frank’s behalf as soon as an opportunity 
comes, and will do what I can for him. What is 3 T our 
age, Frank?” 

“Nineteen, the seventh of June.” 

“The anniversary of Bunker Hill! That’s a good 
omen. How long will 3 r ou be in town?” 

“Until da3 r after tomorrow morning.” 

“Call again and see me. I want to talk with 3 r ou. 
I used to teach, and then I spent a year on an Indian 
reservation in Iowa. You might like to hear some of 
my experiences.” 

“I would, indeed,” was the animated reply. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


117 


“Frank,” said Hoover, “will you go back to the 
house and bring up a bundle I left on a shelf?” 

This errand proved little more than a ruse to get 
Frank out of hearing for a moment. 

“What do you think of the bov?” asked Hoover. 

“Why, I am very much pleased with him. I can see 
he has good natural ability, and he shows up much 
better than one would think for, considering that he 
has been raised out in the brush. His greenness will 
soon wear off. As for schooling, I think he would 
have a better opportunity here. And then, you know, 
the culture of a county gravitates to the county seat 
a good deal, and he can rub up against that. I shall 
further his appointment all I can.” 

Some further words passed between the men, which 
we shall not pause to relate. They were brought to 
a hasty end by Frank’s return with the bundle. 
Hoover drew out a sheet of paper, which he proceeded 
to fold in a way that has been in disuse for half a 
century. The sheet was unruled, squarish, and of 
letter size. Every page except the last had been 
closely written with purple ink. Hoover laid the 
blank page down and brought all four edges over 
the central space, in such a manner that when the 
last folds were tucked, the folded sheet closely resem- 
bled a modern note envelope, both in size and appear- 
ance. 

With a bit of sealing wax the tucks were secured, 
and the name and address of the expected recipient 
was written on the other side. There was no stamp 


118 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


to affix, and the person receiving- the letter would pay 
the postal charge of ten cents. 

“There are sometimes reasons for not mailing a 
letter at the nearest office,” observed Hoover, in the 
significant tone he often used. 

“Postage is lower than when you and I were boys,” 
remarked Darrell. “I have paid twenty-five cents on 
a letter from Tennessee. Now it is only five cents for 
less than three hundred miles.” 

“I suppose you don’t handle many letters here,” 
suggested Hoover. 

“Not so ver} r many. Most people get only a very 
few. But what we do handle are trouble enough, be- 
cause there is a sort of waybill folded about each let- 
ter, and we have to make an entry on each one of 
them.” 

But if postal rates were high prior to the second 
half of the last century, doubtless a lower percentage 
of brief, careless, hurried notes were tossed into the 
letter box. And if the handling of a letter caused 
more work for the postmaster of that da} T , he was 
quite free from the deluge of circulars and merchan- 
dise with which his present representative has to 
contend. 

“The Fellowsville Democrat,” remarked Hoover, 
picking up a small four-page paper. “So you finally 
have a newspaper in your county?” 

“Yes, the first number came out on the tenth of 
this month. Some New York and Pennsylvania peo- 
ple have started a new town over on the Northwestern 
Pike, that they call Fellowsville. They brought a 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


119 


press with them. The paper shows up well, but there 
is nothing- democratic about it except the name. It is 
strongly whig.” 

“Frank,” said Hoover, as the two friends were 
standing in front of the Charlton house at twilight, 
“I have to leave tomorrow in the stage. I expect to 
be here again, but perhaps not for two or three 
months. Would you as soon return home on this side 
of the river? ” 

“Yes, and much rather,” was the prompt reply. 

“ Then do so. Take your time for it. Your people 
understand that you may be absent a few days. Now 
I had a purpose in asking you to come afoot. You 
may see or hear something in the river hills opposite 
the mouth of Sandy. Learn all you can. Keep your 
eye on that fellow Galwix — and Gatt, too. If you 
ever see enough to make you convinced you have 
found something definite, write without dela} r , but 
write to the address I gave you. If a^^thing comes 
of what 3 t ou may see, you shall not be the loser, and 
you shall have some reward anyway. I wish I could 
go out where you are going, but I have a sudden call 
somewhere else.” 

Was not Hoover’s sagacity somewhat at fault in his 
present relations with Frank? Did he not err in 
yielding so little of his confidence? Had he, indeed, 
underrated the ability and integrity of the backwoods 
youth? The course he did pursue ma)^ have an im- 
portant bearing on the further progress of our story. 


X 


THE CABIN IN HACKLEBARNEY. 

Every man stamps his own value upon himself, and we are great 
or little according to our own will. — Lowell. 

Soon after daybreak on Friday morning- Frank 
Cooper turned his back upon the little town. To the 
unfolding mind of the youth it seemed as though 
within the short space of forty hours the experience 
of as many days had been compressed. In the ques- 
tion of his return he showed a trait that characterized 
the victor of Appomattox. He did not wish to 
retrace his steps by the way he had come. This was not 
because the chosen route was more direct. He would 
be viewing a new landscape all the way to the river, 
which he expected to cross within a short distance of 
his home. He was not certain as to where he would 
be able to get over the stream. He might have to fol- 
low the river brink to the farther side of Chestnut 
Ridge, where he would be opposite a house that he 
knew, and a boat was kept. But no matter. He 
would now tread those hills of the southern shore 
which he had so often gazed upon, and which 
he had invested with an air of romance. It was 
therefore a most willing assent which he gave to the 
suggestion of Hoover. 

He would traverse a thinly peopled district, and 
would have only dim roads and bridlepaths to follow. 
But Frank did not mind that. He knew the direction 
of his home, and he had inherited the frontiersman’s 


EAND OF THE EAUREE. 


121 


instinct for holding- a course through the woods. The 
men of the hills are brisk walkers and care little for 
the rapid alterations of hilltop and ravine. Though 
not habitually accustomed to extended tours afoot, 
they possess the endurance to make a long journey 
when occasion demands. Frank had quite thrown off 
what little fatigue had come through the unusual 
journey of Wednesdaj r morning. 

An hour’s walk took him through a succession of 
farms to a path skirting the brow of the river bluff. 
Far down in the shadow of the towering, forest-cov- 
ered ramparts, lay the silvery thread of the winding 
stream. The murmur of the turbulent waters was 
borne to the summit of the precipitous hill. A few 
miles be}^ond the crest of the opposing bluff lay the 
course he had traveled two mornings before. 

The road sank downward along the bluff, and led 
him to the passage of a small tumultuous tributary. 
Here he passed a primitive mill lying in the gloomy 
shadow of a cluster of tall pines. The overshot wheel 
was silent, as were also the burrs and the up-and-down 
saw. The path now led him up a long ravine to the 
summit of a high ridge, where a clearing permitted a 
view of the undulations beyond the great westward 
bend of the river. Among those verdant hills lay the 
road from his settlement to Brandonville. Afar in 
the northwest was the sinuous outlines of the summit 
of Chestnut Ridge, and he could plainly detect the 
gorge through which the waters of the Cheat escape 
on their way to a confluence with the Monongahela. 

The heat of the summer had not yet come, and the 
8 


122 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


air was that of the fullness of spring. It was one of 
those days in early June when the verdure of the 
forested landscape seems warm, vivid, and breathing 
of life itself. The crags and rills of the mountain 
land impart a love of home to the dwellers in their 
midst, while the pure, exhilarating atmosphere has in 
every age been the inspiration of freedom. But the man 
of the hills does not know the depth of his affection 
for the highlands until he has seen the contrast with 
the dullness of the plain, the monotony of the ocean, 
or the clamor of the city. And not even then does he 
behold the real beauty of the mountain top, if his 
mind is groveling and the intellectual side of his 
nature dormant or undeveloped. 

Frank was in search of a man his father used to 
know, and in another mile he came directly upon a 
farmhouse of the customary log pattern, and answer- 
ing the description given him in Kingwood. The 
rotten condition of the few stumps in the open fields 
was a proof that the farm had been opened up many 
years before. A few yards inside the rail fence was a 
man grubbing out roots. 

“is this Bugene Smallwood ?” asked Frank. 

“ Whyjio, I’m just Gene Smallwood,” was the good 
humored reply. 

If the farmer had been addressed as Mr. Small- 
wood his answer might have been sarcastic. He 
would have said the young stranger was putting on 
airs. 

“Do you know Joe Colbert?” inquired the new- 
comer, climbing over the fence. 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


123 


“Well, I should say I do. Him and me was great 
friends. Haven’t saw him this five year.” 

“I’m his boy.” 

“That so? Glad to see you. How’d you chance 
over here ? ” 

“ I’ve been to King-wood and I’m going home by 
this side of the river.” 

“ Stop with me. Stay over Sunday. Its nigh the 
end of the week. There’s nothing in the house to 
feed on, but you might run down an owl or a hawk, 
and get some beech leaves for greens. Is the old 
man well ? ” 

In the language of the hills this epithet referred 
to the head of a family, some of the members of 
which had arrived at adult age. The man so pointed 
out was not necessarily old, but the term was used as 
a mark of respect. 

Frank was nothing loth to remain. It would have 
been thought mean and contemptible if the farmer 
had failed to extend hospitality to the son of his 
friend. 

“ One of the Millen boys could put you over Cheat,”' 
remarked Smallwood. “They have a boat down ira 
the river by the fishdam. When the river is just a 
little lower than it is now, one can get over on the 
dam pretty well. So you thought you’d come through 
Hacklebarney and see what for country we have over 
here.” 

“You call this settlement Hacklebarney?” 

“Why, yes; ever hear how it got the name ?” 

“No, but I would like to hear.” 


124 


land of the laurel. 


“Well, this is the real Hacklebarney farm. Here 
is where the name started. Way back some forty 
years ago, Elihu Horton was sheriff — this count) r was 
part of Mongerhale then — and he stopped at this 
place while he was out collecting taxes. He called 
his horse Barney. When he went to bridle him he 
seen how bad the horse’s legs was bit by the deerflies 
and the skeeters, and he said, ‘ O, see how the}^ do 
hackle Barney.’ We been calling this country Hackle- 
barney ever since. The deerflies is powerful bad 
in summer, between ten and four. And the gnats 
and skeeters — oh my ! We sometimes have to take 
one of these toadstools that grows on trees and lay 
it on the coals in the fireplace, so the smoke will 
keep the things off. And when we burn brush the 
cattle will come and stand in the smoke.” 

But Smallwood lived to witness a very striking 
mitigation of the insect plague, through the more 
complete clearing of the land. 

“There is ten places round here that was de- 
serted,” resumed the f armer. “ People come in and 
bought land and lived here some time, but there was 
something loose in the title with the man they bought 
of, and they got afraid they couldn’t hold their places. 
So they left them and their cabins has went down. 
One of them men — his name was Lankford — set out 
some apples and we call ’em Lankford sweets. Them 
trees bears plenty of apples yet. There’s a man staying 
in one o’ them cabins — the Humbert house — over on 
Gun Camp run. He wan’t very stout he said, and he 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


125 


thought he’d shant}^ it a while up here in the hills and 
build hisself up.” 

“What’s he look like?” demanded Frank, his sus- 
picion aroused 

“A little low-like; heavy set; red hair and plenty 
of it; long jaw.” 

The description indicated Levi Gatt. 

“ See much of him ? ” next inquired the j^outh. 

“Mighty little. He don’t go out only when he 
has to. His name is Jack Gorley. Know ’im ?” 

“I think I have seen him. How far is it over 
there ? ” 

“ Hardly a mile. But he won’t talk with you. 
He’s the grummest fellow I ever seen.” 

“Then I won’t stay long.” 

“ No, be back for dinner. There’s no big family 
of us any more. Only two small girls and a boy 
home. We lost three and five more is married. My 
boys was most all girls anyhow. Them two girls 
home is too small for you to look at. There’ll be a 
sister’s boy in for dinner — Bob. Talks of going down 
to the river to fish. Better wait and go with him.” 

“Perhaps I will go fishing, but I’ll walk over to 
that place first.” 

Smallwood gave directions for finding the cabin, 
and going nearly all the way through the woods 
Frank came within sight of the humble, round-log 
structure. It had a very forsaken appearance and lay 
near the bottom of a deep ravine. Around it was a 
small clearing, used only for pasture. In no direction 
did the outlook reach beyond the wooded confine, 


126 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


which approached within a few rods of the cabin. 
No wagon path led into the open space. 

Frank crept through the curtain of trees until he 
had gained a position within a short distance of 
the door. There was no sign of life until after a not 
very long vigil the entrance opened far enough for a 
man to squeeze through. He looked furtively about 
and then followed the course of the ravine into the 
woods. The form looked familiar, but the watcher 
could not identify the face because of the bandanna 
handkerchief wrapped about it. With extreme cau- 
tion Frank moved in a parallel course on the other 
side of the ravine until he detected the man entering 
a crevice between a projecting ledge and a very large 
rock that seemed to have fallen away in some dis- 
turbance of nature. The person entered the cranny 
with empty hands, but was carrying something when 
he came out. His face was now toward the hidden 
observer. Despite the concealment of the handker- 
chief, Frank was no longer in doubt. 

The man was John Galwix. Levi Gatt was doubt- 
less in the cabin. 

Waiting until he was satisfied that Galwix had 
gone inside the hut, the spy crossed the ravine and 
crept up the bank to the farther .opening in the ledge. 
Stepping inside he found the crevice crescent-shaped 
and reaching to the surface of the ground. At first 
he saw no evidence of any place of concealment. But 
a more deliberate glance revealed a peculiarly smooth 
spot in the dry soil of a weather-protected nook. 
The investigator poked his finger into the soil and 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


127 


quickly found an obstruction that felt more like wood 
than rock. A test with his thumb nail removed a 
splinter, and further located the edge of a piece of 
plank. Another test showed that the board was 
moveable. It was surely the cover to a place of con- 
cealment. 

Removing the finger marks he had made in the 
dust, Frank hastily withdrew and beat a stealthy 
retreat from his equivocal and perhaps perilous position. 

“Here is something new I have run onto,” was his 
reflection. “I am going to look into this business 
some more while I am around here.” 

When Frank regained the Smallwood house it was 
close to the dinner period, and he now met Robert 
Kester, a pleasant-faced youth of nearly his own age. 

“Here, boys,” exclaimed the farmer, as he came in 
from his grubbing. “I seen a deer just this minute 
over on yon side the run. Suppose you fellows slip 
up on him and try your skill. You can have him 
between you. Here, Frank, take my gun. It’s loaded, 
but you better take along the powder horn and other 
traps, and you do the same with your’n, Bob.” 

In some excitement the boys began their approach 
on the quarry, arranging, meanwhile, the anticipated 
divison of the game. Smallwood stalked behind at a 
respectful distance. Two shots rang out in quick 
succession. 

“ We neither one of us brung ’im,” exclaimed Robert. 

“Let’s load and try again,” said Frank eagerly. 
“He didn’t run.” 

A much closer approach was made and two more 


128 


land of thf laurel. 


shots were ventured. The deer still remained stand- 
ing-. 

“Confound the luck,” growled Robert. “Can’t we 
hit nothing-?” 

“Aw,'” shouted the farmer in a disdainful tone. 
“You boys can’t shoot for sour apples. You couldn’t 
plug the barn even if you stood nig-h the house.’’ 

The boys reloaded and resumed their approach, but 
this time withheld their fire so long as they observed 
no motion in the targ-et. 

“No wonder we didn’t bring- him down,” muttered 
Frank. “It’s a dead deer propped up in the brush.’’ 

“Uncle Newt has played off a prank on us,” added 
Robert. 

Yet the disappointed bo3^s returned in g-ood humor, 
and heartily joined in the laug-h at their expense. 

“It wasn’t so mean a prank as Lot Cassidy played 
off on Newt Perkins,” declared Smallwood. “Lot 
offered to wag-er a dollar that Newt couldn’t put up a 
stack of hay that would stand. Newt took him up 
on it and then he done his best on a stack, but that 
rip of a Cassidy give Alcinus Grimm a dollar to push 
the stack over. So he g-ot his money back.” 

While the company were eating- the noonday meal 
a very young- fawn came trotting- into the open door- 
way. 

“Well, now,” ejaculated the farmer, as all eyes 
were turned upon the beautiful creature, his fur pre- 
senting- the spotted appearance which is absent from 
the adult animal. “The little fellow is after his 
milk.” 


LAND OF THF LAURLL. 


129 


A dish was filled, set on the floor, and emptied by 
the fawn, with great relish. 

“That must have been the mother doe boys 
shot at,” resumed Smallwood. “Some hunters 
wounded her and she got away and died. I’m having 
just sech a ’sperience as Jim Darrell, down nigh the 
river. He found a fawn most starved and brung it 
home. He give it some milk, but after a spell it slip- 
ped out the door when no one see it, and he thought 
it was gone for sure. But next day in come the fawn 
just like this here one. It was most starved again. 
Then it stayed on and got to be as tame as a kitten. 
It had its nest under a vine out in the garden. He 
kept it till it was grown up; tied a rag around its 
neck so the hunters would know it was a tame one. 
But it got to eating up too many vegetables in the 
garden, and then he made venison of him.” 

“Jim Darrell has a pet bear,” said Robert. “He 
rassels with it. The bear gen’rally rassels him down, 
now that he’s big, but he don’t offer to hurt him; just 
licks his face.” 

The farmer continued to talk on the subject of wild 
animals. 

“It aint ben sech a powerful long while that a pain- 
ter [panther] was killed over in Gum camp run. Isa- 
iah Dewees, he run agen him when he had only one 
light charge and that was in his rifle. He shot but 
didn’t hurt him much. His hounds was with him, 
but the painter backed up agen a ledge of rock and 
kept the hounds off. Then Dewees, he got up behind 
on the ledge and dropped a thunderin’ big rock on 


130 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


him, and lamed his back, so he couldn’t get away. 
Then he fixed him. I run a buck in that same place 
once with some hounds, but they were ill and wouldn’t 
let me get nigh. I used to bore a hole in a tree and 
put some salt in and lay for the deer, but there’s a 
natural lick down on Bull run. I have saw deer hair 
laying around there by the hat-full — and tracks run- 
ning to the lick from all round. Gum camp got its 
name from a real camp some hunters built there. It 
was built of gum logs. The rattlesnakes got too 
thick and the men fin’ly burnt it up.” 

In the afternoon the young friends, with fishing-rod 
and rifle, were on their way to the river. 

“Let’s go past the Humbert house and give the 
man that sta)^s there a call,’’ proposed Frank. 

“All right,” agreed Robert. “I have never saw 
the fellow ) r et.” 

Greatly to Frank’s satisfaction, the door of the 
cabin was seen to be partially open. There was no 
window on the same side and their approach was not 
discovered until they were within a few yards of the 
hut. The figure of Levi Gatt, minus coat and shoes, 
suddenly appeared on the threshhold and the door 
was drawn close his body. A large black dog insinu- 
ated his nose into the opening and growled fiercely. 

“Back there, Rover,” “exclaimed Gatt. “This 
dog would jump right on you boys if I let him out.’’ 

The man regarded his would-be callers with great 
coolness. Robert acted as their spokesman, while 
Frank stood back and was not apparently observed. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


131 


“Got a drink of water?” asked Robert. “We are 
getting- dry.” 

“None that’s fresh,” was the response. “Down 
by that sugar tree there’s an elegant spring.” 

“Anything there to drink out of?” 

“Yes, a gourd. I have such a muss in here that 
the room isn’t fit to be seen. Going to the river 
fishing?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then what’s your notion of going down this 
run? Why not go down Hacklebarney run? It’s 
nigher.” 

“ Thought we might find a few trout in the mouth 
of Gum Camp.” 

“No, you won’t. I’ve tried for them. You’ve got 
to go over Cheat, up into Briery mountain, if you 
want to find brook trout.” 

“Then we’ 11 get a drink and go over the hill to the 
other run,” concluded Robert. 

While the boys were drinking, a hawk flew out of 
the woods and past the cabin. Frank ostentatiously 
drew Robert’s attention to the bird, and in doing so he 
threw a quick glance toward the door. He had a mo- 
mentary glimpse of a second face peering from above 
Gatt’s shoulder. 

“That fellow is not very neighborly,” observed 
Robert, in a tone of contempt. 

“Looks as though he keeps a dirty-looking hole in 
there,” was the. only remark his companion chose to 
offer. 

“Yes, and did you notice some coal dust and lumps 


132 


land of the laurel. 


right by the door?” pursued Robert. “Queer what 
he wants with coal. No one burns it in this country. 
Wood is too plenty and easy to get.” 

The boys did not wish to return empty-handed from 
their fishing tour, and the shades were gathering in 
the river gorge when they began their return, with a 
fine string of fish. At Frank’s instance they made 
another detour to the Humbert house. It was now 
quite dark, and the moon would not rise for several 
hours. Yet silhouetted against the night sky was a 
column of black smoke pouring from the cabin 
chimney. 

“Not on fire, is it?” conjectured Robert. 

“No,” replied Frank, very decisively. “There 
would be sparks if the house had caught fire. That 
is coal smoke.” 

“He’s got fire enough in there to roast an ox,” de- 
clared the younger boy. “Wonder if he’s freezing?” 

“He might be doing up some washing or baking,” 
was Frank’s evasive response. 

The movements of the boys were heard by the dog, 
and the brute set up an energetic barking. 

“Walk easy !” cautioned the more elder of the two. 

The door opened, and as a man came out to make a 
circuit of the cabin a bright glare was detected. 

“He’s a man that wouldn’t care to shoot,” whis- 
pered Robert, meaning that they might be fired upon 
if seen. 

“He don’t want people to come round,” replied 
Frank, “but then he’d get run out of here if he tried 
to stay after he had once fired on a man. The dog 


LAND OF THK LAURFL- 


133 


was fastened outside. I could hear a chain clink. 
He’s a vicious animal. Bob, if I were you I wouldn’t 
tell people what we saw tonight ; not ) r et, an} r way.” 

“Why not?” demanded the other. 

“Because it might scare the fellow off, if he is not 
what he ought to be. But if we lay low he may get 
caught up. News gets spread very easy. The chap 
is not here for his health alone.” 

“I’ll keep still,” assented Robert. “But what do 
you suppose he’s up to?” 

“Have you any idea?” queried Frank. 

“I believe I have.” 

“Then don’t let it get out, or he’ll skip before we 
are ready for him.” 




XI 

A UNIVERSAL EXPERIENCE. 

Without the smile from partial beauty won, 

O, what were man ! a world without a sun ! 

— Campbell . 

“Uncle Gene,” said Robert, at the breakfast table, 
“I’m going to take Frank home with me after din- 
der, and tomorrow we’ll go to meeting out in the 
glades.” 

“All right,” rejoined Smallwood. “Boys like to 
run together. Only let him come back here Sunday 
night. I want to see him again before he gets away 
from our country. But don’t let the girls over there 
in the glades get struck on him.’’ 

“He won’t get to see any of them,” replied the 
nephew. 

Frank took a hoe and went with Robert into a corn- 
field. The blade of the tool had been forged out of 
a horseshoe. 

The visitor was indeed wearing his best clothes, 
but there was no very broad distinction between the 
rough garments he would have had on at home and 
the considerably worn suit in which he was now 
attired. The country folk were not much accus- 
tomed to “dressing up,” and a damty of that day or 
a dude of this would have been a butt of their un- 
sparing ridicule. So Frank’s garb was not likely to 
be much the worse for going into the field. At home 
his shoes would have been left in the house, for all 
adults as well as children were very much given to 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


135 


going- barefoot in warm weather. And, moreover, 
the idea of sitting idly about the house, like a piece 
of ornamental furniture, would have seemed prepos- 
terous to the visitor. 

A generally downward course of two miles toward 
the billowjr slopes of Chestnut Ridge brought the 
young friends into a basin known as “Monongalia 
Glades ” prior to the division of the parent count}^ 
and afterward as simply “the glades.’’ 

But the tract of ten thousand acres did not then 
present the open grassy and almost prairie-like ap- 
pearance it had come to assume at the invasion of the 
coal mining industry. The undulations scattered 
over its bosom were still to a very great degree cov- 
ered with their primeval forest of hardwood timber. 
Yet the low, wet, interlacing network of level 
ground — the glades, in the more limited sense of the 
term — had never been woodland. There were indeed 
thickets of cherry and alder, but the damp, black, 
soil nourished a luxuriant vesture of wild grass. 

On the border of a comparatively smooth tract of 
elevated ground and facing toward the river, on a bold 
conical knob, stood a new dwelling of hewn logs. 

“Here is where Tom Walbridge lives,” announced 
Robert. “It is only a step across the fields to my 
dad’s. Let’s go up to the house a while. There’s 
six girls at home and only one of them spoke for yet; 
that’s Annie, the oldest one. The others is Almeda, 
Virginia, Delia, Maggie and Ollie. There’s only one 
boy, Willie, and he’s the youngest of the whole 


136 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


bunch. The two other bo3 r s died. One girl is 
married.” 

Thomas Walbridge was intercepted near the front 
door. It was scarcely one o’clock, and the farmer 
was starting off to his w r ork. 

“ Tom,” said Robert in a very familiar tone — and 
the man of the house had still a boyish look — “Tom, 
3'ou need a fellow to help work 3 T our place and here 
he is. Look at him and see if he ain’t the one.” 

“Yes, he’s all right,” replied the farmer in a tone 
loud enough to be heard throughout the house. “I’ll 
trade a girl off for him. There are so man3 r in there, 
the3 r stand in one another’s way. My onl3 r boy didn’t 
come along soon enough to be any force yet. Take 
the fellow on in, Bob. One of the girls might suit 
him, if he’s not too pertickeler. Onty don’t let him 
talk too much to Annie, or Ad Harris might come 
round and tr3 r to lick him. Ain’t been to dinner ?” 

“ Yes, just come from Uncle Gene’s,” replied the 
spokesman. 

“From there? Wh3 r Gene Smallwood never has 
nothing to eat. That’s why" his family is mighty 
nigh all married off. Now go on in. The girls got 
a rhuburb pie the3 T don’t know what to do with.” 

The farmer did not mean that his invitation should 
go b3" default, and it was so understood by his vis- 
itors. They prompt^ followed him through the liv- 
ing-room into the kitchen, where the dinner dishes 
were not 3 r et put away. Here were visible the ma- 
tron of the family and five girls of varying degrees 
of comeliness, none, however, being homety. The 


THE FARMHOUSE IN THE GRADES Phot’d by J. F. Christopher. 


































- 


























LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


137 


second daughter was on the rear porch and out of 
sight, but the door was conveniently ajar, and there 
was a half window in that direction. 

“ Here girls,” said the head of the family, half 
pushing his callers into empty chairs at the table, 
“here are two starved bo} r s, so faint they couldn’t go 
any further. They are just begging for that pie. 
Here, Genie, you run a knife through it straight as 
a ramrod — cut right square through the center — and 
then give the biggest half to the best looking one.” 

The blushes and suppressed giggling of Virginia 
may have interfered with the drawing of a line to 
correspond with the geometrical definition of the 
same. At all events the two halves were not equal. 

“Delia,” said the parent to the next girl, “you go 
fetch each of them boys a glass of milk, and don’t 
you put a drop more in one glass than the other.” 

Yet the last command was also disobeyed. 

“I didn’t take time out there to find what your 
name might be,” inquired Walbridge turning to the 
stranger. 

The farmer now suspended his bantering talk, for 
he wished to become acquinted with his guest. Where 
Frank became modest in the recital of his personal 
history, his friend was so considerate as to fill in the 
missing threads as far as he was able. 

“Well,” concluded the host, drawing back his feet 
preparatory to rising, “I must go to work. The 
best spring in the country is out here on yon side of 
the kitchen porch. Bob, you take Frank out to it. 
He might like a drink of spring water.” 

9 


138 


land of thk laurel. 


There was a roguish look in the farmer’s eyes. 

“I’ll go get a pitcherful,” said the inconsiderate 
Delia. 

“No, you won’t,” declared Walbridge, with a smile 
of cunning. “You and Genie put on your sunbonnets 
and come out with me, and see how many rows of 
corn you can hoe.” 

On the porch stood the second sister, wielding the 
handle of an upright churn. She possessed a well-formed 
figure, of rather more than medium size, and there 
was nothing puny about the arms, which were in view 
to the elbow. The face did not fall short of being 
pretty. The clear, bright eyes were gray; the abun- 
dant hair was a dark, glossy brown; and the complexion 
was clear and fair, with rosy cheeks. It was the face 
and form of a healthy, intelligent, domestic country 
girl; one who was proficient in house work, and could 
also labor in the field when necessary. Her working 
dress was tidy and her hair was neatly put up. 

“Almeda, this is Frank Colbert, from over the 
river,” said Robert, by way of introduction. 

The girl knew this already, for she had heard every 
word spoken at the front door and in the kitchen, and 
she had stolen more than one look at the newcomer. 
Her motive for keeping out of the room is a problem 
we refer to students of human nature. 

The wielder of the churn-handle suspended her 
work and inclined her head, a warm tinge creeping 
over her face and lending an unmistakable meaning 
to her smile. But if an observer had been quick 
enough to read both countenances at the same instant, 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


139 


he would have caught a reciprocal look of admiration 
on Frank Colbert’s own face. Her regard was returned, 
measure for measure — and possibly more. Words are 
cumbersome and often bungling to express what the 
soul declares through the eyes so swiftly and so 
unerringly. 

Frank immediately forgot about the cool, sweet 
water of the mountain spring, and neither did Robert 
seem to care whether any farther progress was made 
in that direction. He sideled back to the kitchen, 
where he tried to tease Virginia, as she washed the 
dinner dishes. The apartment began to resound with 
an alternation of laughter and repartee. 

“You have a good job,” remarked Frank, by way^ 
of puncturing the ice. 

“ It don’t seem to be very quick about coming.” 

“ Let me churn a while. I’m used to it. I always 
could make the butter come.” 

“You’ll get your clothes all spattered.’’ 

Frank did not care for the cream splashing on him, 
and the girl would sooner have had them soiled in 
this way than to have seen him go away without 
speaking to her. What a fortunate circumstance that 
the churn was there to promote an acquaintance. 

Almeda leaned against the edge of a work-table, 
and these two young people became so absorbed in 
their small talk that they did not at first observe the 
ominous patting sound of the dasher. 

“Why, the butter’s come,” exclaimed the girl. 

Frank was sorry the churning had not required 
more time, and he saw no other form of work lying 


140 


LAND OF THF LATTRFL. 


about in which he was likely to be useful. Yet he 
lingered still longer, and until his friend reappeared 
on the porch. 

“ Frank, let’s go down to the spring and then round 
by the blacksmith shop on the way home. I have an 
errand at the shop.” 

“All right, Bob.” 

A gourd shell was lying on the capstone over the 
spring reservoir, but Almeda found the callers a pew- 
ter mug from which to allay their postponed yet not 
very pressing thirst. 

‘ ‘ May I stop as I go back to Smallwood’ s tomorrow? ” 

It was Frank who spoke. Now in a case like this 
a girl is not counted on to respond with a prompt, 
clear-sounding yes, and Almeda was no exception to 
the rule. The manner of her repl}" was halting and 
in terms it was ambiguous, but it meant nothing 
short of an unequivocal permission, and was so under- 
stood. 

The stranger’s footsteps were lighter as he accom- 
panied his friend another mile to a blacksmith shop 
lying some distance above a slow-moving stream. 
There were then no village centers in these glades 
and the shop was not one of the accessories of a coun- 
try hamlet. 

Robert’s errand was very brief, and the young 
friends soon began to retrace their footsteps. 

“This field around that cabin that’s rotting down 
is called the Hartley Green, observed the guide. “It 
is old man Hartley that lives back in the hollow, 
above the shop. Them glades over there to our right 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


141 


is powerful wet. Frost strikes them most every 
month in the year. Corn won’t do no good on ’em 
nor wheat neither. The people don’t try to raise 
much stuff except oats and potatoes. Well, they do 
not have to. They can make all the hay they want 
and raise cattle. There’s lots of boys growing up, 
and they set them to ditching the glades and improv- 
ing the farms. See that house right over on yon 
side the glade? That’s the old Cobun place. The 
first one that come into this country patented all the 
land round here. There used to be a three-story log 
house where that one is, a powerful tall one. It was 
tore down when I was so small I can’t only just 
remember it. The man that lives there now had a 
girl over on yon side of Cheat, and one time he went 
way up to the bridge at the Northwestern Pike so as 
to get over. The water was so high he didn’t dare 
cross at Snider’s. The church we are going to tomor- 
row is a mile south from the Hartley Green. Now 
we’ve got to our line fence. There isn’t a better 
farm in the country than dad’s, even if I do say it. 
Corn comes all right up on this high ground.” 

Yet before Robert Kester had become an old man he 
saw many a field of corn in the once frosty glades. 

The Kester home reminded Frank of his own roof, 
and he was told by the father that twelve years pre- 
vious to this summer his living room was serving the 
purpose of a house of worship. 

In the morning the task of making himself present- 
able almost put Frank in miser}^. His indifferent 
clothes had disturbed him but little during the visit 


142 


• LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


to Kingwood. He now wished his straw hat were 
new instead of faded, and that he were wearing- a 
better suit. But the wish could do him no g-ood at 
the present moment, and his sunburnt clothes were 
brushed until they suffered far more in the process 
than from a da) r ’s work in the field. He was also 
convinced that his week’s growth of soft beard must 
be removed, and his friend’s parent was pressed into 
duty as a barber. His hair was combed and brushed 
with a precision he had never used before. But such 
is the civilizing influence exerted over a young man 
by a suddenly discovered attachment for a winsome 
maid. 

The church was used in common by the three sects 
represented in the neighborhood. The day was fair, 
church-g-oing was the custom in that vicinage, and 
the half-dozen Walbridge girls were among the crowd 
that filled the house. Frank was a stranger in the 
glades, but what of that? These plain people were 
rising from a pioneering era, and interdependence was 
a cornerstone of their mode of life. The social castes 
of the seaboard commonwealths were left behind when 
the westward-moving emigrant entered the frown- 
ing barrier of the Alleghany wilderness. The 
struggling settlers became fused into a band of breth- 
ren. Frank was as welcome in the glades as Robert 
would be in the hills across the river. 

Youth is a time of romance, and “distance lends 
enchantment to the view.” In the simple fact of com- 
ing as a stranger, the suitor from a distance has an 
advantage over the swain of the home neighborhood. 


LAND OF THE LAUREL- 


143 


Frank was less awkward and crude than most boys 
of these hills, and was not afflicted with an inconve- 
nient degree of bashfulness. He was not at all slow 
to ask the company of Almeda on the return, and the 
favor was not granted with any reluctance. It is 
pertinent to add that the Kesters saw very little of 
him before his return to Smallwood’s. 



XII 

A SUCCESSION OF INCIDENTS. 

Who dares think one thing, and another tell, 

My heart detests him as the gates of hell. 

— Pope. 

On Monday morning- a score of men were assembled 
on the small clearing- of William Littlehouse, five miles 
from the Smallwood farm, and nearly an equal dis- 
tance in the direction of Frank’s home. The young- 
stranger had volunteered to assist, and one of the 
men present had agreed to put him across the river 
the following day. 

Around the spot chosen for the house were a num- 
ber of logs, squared and sawed to the proper lengths. 
Farther away was a mound of clapboards. Since the 
building was to be small it did not require so large a 
force of helpers as was often necessary, and the task 
of placing the logs in position was correspondingly 
less. 

The foundation logs lay nearest and were rolled by 
handspikes upon the cornerstones and there brought 
to a level. Other logs were hauled as near as possible 
with a team and chain, then rolled up on skids and 
placed in position by the combined strength of several 
men. The higer the wall rose, the greater the effort 
required to put the logs in place. But before the day 
was gone, every log had been fitted to its position, the 
floor had been laid, and the roof covered with clap- 
boards. The building of the chimney, the making of 
the doors, and the fitting of the few and little win- 


LAND OF THF LAUREL. 


145 


dows were left for the owner to perform at his leisure 
with the help of his nearer neighbors. 

The latter portion of the day was given to relaxa- 
tion and the fiddler of the part} 7 made the walls echo to 
the strains of “ Fisher s Hornpipe ” and “Sugar in the 
Gourd.” The piano and the organ were then strangers 
in these hills, and the few musical instruments to be 
found were such as could easily be carried in the 
hand. 

In the morning Frank was descending the river hill 
with a man whose home was on the smooth summit. 
The bluff here towers near a thousand feet above the 
swirling flood, and progress on the dim footpath was 
made tedious by jutting rocks, tangled vines, and the 
soft, slimy trunks of prostrate rotten trees. It was 
also necessary to have an eye for the copperhead 
snakes, which then infested the gorge more numer- 
ously than at present. 

From the top of the hill Frank had recognized some 
of the clearings in his own settlement, and now that 
he had been a.wa,y from home for six days, a feeling of 
homesickness had begun to appear. 

During the latter half of this time his visit to the 
Walbridge home had nearly absorbed his thoughts. 
But as he now began to toil up the northern slope of 
the river can} r on, his mind turned back to the secret 
of the cabin in Hacklebarney. Though he wanted to 
explore that recess in the cliff, and though he felt sure 
that Galwix and his ally were in some nefarious pur- 
suit, the elder Colbert had often cautioned his boys 
against meddling in the concerns of other people. He 


146 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


could have shot the dog:, but even with this obstacle 
out of his way, a single-handed attempt to investigate 
would be hazardous, and he did not wish to draw 
Robert Kester into further peril. 

Frank was now convinced that the Humbert cabin 
was a den of counterfeiters, and that Hoover had been 
trying: to ferret out the rendezvous. For years the 
young- man had heard dark rumors of wealth amassed 
with nrysterious speed. These rumors were linked 
with people known to him by reputation. It was 
alleg-ed in private that those men had handled spurious 
money, yet he had never heard that actual proof was 
forthcoming. Might not these ugly leg-ends have 
caused the moving- of the illeg-al mint across the river? 
There were perhaps many persons in leag-ue with 
Galwix. Frank remembered the warning of Hoover, 
and he resolved he would be cautious; yes, very 
cautious. 

He now believed he had been of material aid to 
Hoover, and the strange man had suggested West 
Point as a reward. His high estimate of Hoover’s 
astuteness made him think the prize would not have 
been mentioned were it beyond his reach. Then he 
would make fresh effort to attain the prize. He would 
report his new discovery without delay, and he would 
still follow the trail. 

In climbing the hillside, the youth had to scale a 
stratum of rock with an almost vertical exposure. He 
helped himself up by the projections in a fissure. On 
gaining the top he soon found the semblance of a 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


147 


path leading- onward by an easy grade. Here he 
paused a moment to rest. 

There is a saying that the Prince of Darkness is 
near those who talk about him. Frank was still 
thinking of Galwix when the man himself came into 
view, at a lower point on the path. He was carrying 
a box by a brass handle, and it was held as if very 
heavy for its bulk. Frank noticed the box, and knew 
it was the one he had seen before. The man was 
visibly startled on beholding Frank, but speedily 
recovered himself. 

“Why, if here isn’t Frank Colbert,’’ he exclaimed, 
with seeming cheeriness. “I didn’t dream of meeting 
any one down here. Come from over the river ? ” 

“Yes, and I thought I’d take a short cut up the 
hill till I struck a path.” 

Frank took his cue at once. He indeed held Galwix 
under suspicion, and he mistrusted there was a recipro- 
cal suspicion on the part of the man. But Galwix did 
not now wish to reveal any lack of confidence, and 
Frank was more than willing to meet him on the 
same ground. 

“Fearful hard work to climb- this hill,” puffed Gal- 
wix. “ Wonder if this path wouldn’t bring us out by 
an easy way.” 

“ Yes,” replied Frank, “ it will bring us into Lock- 
hart’s clearing, and then we’ll have no trouble.” 

Frank was already satisfied that Galwix was fa- 
miliar with the path. 

“You see I have a load,” remarked the elder person, 
shifting the box from his right hand to his left. “I 


148 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


am collecting 1 some geological specimens for a scien- 
tific man in Pittsburg. I have found some pieces of 
ore that are extremely heavy.” 

“ Do you suppose there’s lead in them?” inquired 
Frank. 

“I have a notion there is, but I had no easy way to 
make a test. Haven’t you heard of a lost lead mine 
somewhere in this country?” 

“Yes, one that was known to the Indians and old 
settlers, and then got lost, and no one can find it 
since.” 

“Some people don’t believe in the story,” pursued 
Galwix. “ Perhaps they know something about the 
mine, but don’t want other people to find out. The 
accounts are very plain about Indians and old hunters 
making bullets by melting the ore. There may, 
after all, be something in the story.” 

The legend of the lost mine is not confined to a 
single locality of what is now West Virginia. The 
mythical lead has been assigned to various places, but 
it eludes discover like the treasures of Captain Kidd. 

“Is any other metal mixed with lead?’’ inquired 
Frank, very innocently. 

But Galwix was not caught napping. 

“Yes, they say there is a little silver in lead ore; a 
very little, though; and it would take an experienced 
person to separate it from the lead.” 

“Don’t you want me to carry it a while?” asked 
Frank. 

“O, no; thanks. It isn’t really much. You don’t 
go over the river often, do you ? ” 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


149 


“ This was the first time. Dad wanted me to go to 
King-wood and I came back this side, so as to see some 
new county. Helped in a house raising yesterday. 
Had a good time while I was gone. Where did you 
cross ?” 

“Right at the mouth of Sandy. I struck an unex- 
pected chance to get over. I had thought of going by 
Ice’s Ferr} r to New Geneva, and then hit a boat for 
Pittsburg.” 

“I didn’t hear of your being in that settlement,” 
said Frank. 

“O, I wasn’t round among the people; didn’t have 
the time. I was only in two cabins up on the river 
hill. Wonder how Ezra Sheres is by this time. Did 
you see how those drunken brutes guyed him over at 
the muster?” 

“Yes, but they were too drunk to have sense.” 

“Well,’’ resumed Galwix, “Ezra is a little too for- 
ward. I have to laugh whenever I think of that time 
in the mill down at Bruceton. What made Ezra want 
to lie out of it, that he talked with me, I don’t know. 
He wanted a gun so much that I told him I’d let him 
have three dollars to get one with, and his dad could 
pay me back next time I come round. I can’t do a 
thing like that very often, of course, but the boy had 
been of some help to me in the settlement.’’ 

“He didn’t keep his gun long,” observed Frank. 

“O, he took another notion like lots of other boys. 
Well, Frank, I hear you are going to school at the 
Brandonville academy.” 

“That is the intention.” 


150 


land of the laurel. 


“Let me congratulate you. You are a bright ) r oung 
fellow and I shall be glad to see you succeed. 5 ’ 

“Thank you.” 

The chance companions were now at the top of 
.the ascent and here they separated. They had done 
some cautious fencing. Each had talked with seem- 
ing frankness, and yet each had baffled the curiosity 
of the other all he could. Each had wanted to ask 
questions which he forbore to propound. 

On the same da} r Frank reported for duty at Bran- 
donville, and was told he could begin work in the 
morning. But he first addressed himself to the task 
of writing a letter. He had never done such a thing 
before and Hoover had given him several cautions. 

“Don’t sign your real name. Sign it ‘Hickory’. 
And remember that while 3 r ou are not supposed to be 
sending any letters to me, you must write them just 
as though you were talking to me and no one else. 
Call Galwix ‘A’, and Gatt ‘B’, and Sheres ‘C’. One 
cannot be too careful about his letters. They may do 
a power of harm if they , fall into improper hands. 
The address you are to use is a harmless one. If 
the letter were to go direct to the proper place, I 
could not answer about its being tampered with in 
the mails.” 

The letter was duly posted but Frank received no 
intimation of its receipt. 

At the close of his first month of service Mr. Big- 
gins paid his employee, and to the youth who had 
scarcely yet handled any money he could call his own, 
the ten dollar bill seemed a very bonanza. Frank 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


151 


was then given an errand which would cause a con- 
siderable detour while going home for his weekly 
visit. 

He had performed his errand and gone a mile far- 
ther, when he began to hear rapid footfalls behind 
him. There now came an unpleasant suspicion. He 
had seen Gatt in the village that very afternoon, and 
the low-browed man might have knowledge that 
money had been paid him. If Gatt could rob a per- 
son by passing counterfeit coin he could rob in more 
violent ways as well. The youth quickened his pace, 
but was speedily aware that the man was doing the 
same. 

“Hold on, I want to talk with you.” 

The voice was that of Gatt. There was a peculi- 
arity which made it easy to recognize. Frank was 
unarmed, save for a small clasp knife, which with 
him was merely a substitute for a jack knife. He 
knew he would be at a disadvantage in a close en- 
counter with the athletic foe. 

“I know what I’ll do,” thought the pursued youth. 
“ I’m just on the edge of Jonas Sheres’ clearing and 
I’ll make a push for the house.” 

He sprang over a low rail fence, ran a hundred 
yards through a field, and gained the door of a small 
cabin. The shades of evening had already fallen, 
but there was no sign of the pursuer coming into the 
clearing. 

Frank knocked sharply on the door, and after a 
little delay it was pulled ajar and a man looked out 


152 


land of thk laurfl. 


over a lard oil lamp to see who the night caller 
might be. 

“It’s me — Frank Colbert. I want in. Some one 
has been chasing me.” 

“That so? Well, come right in. What’s it all 
about ?.” 

“Don’t know unless it was some honest fellow who 
thought I had a little cash.” 

The man was an uncle to Ezra, and though Frank 
had lost all confidence in his schoolmate, the uncle 
bore a good reputation, so far as he knew. 

“ Don’t know who it could be,” declared the man, 
“but you are all right in here, and they wouldn’t 
dare to fool with you in daytime. If you’d only had 
a gun you might have salted the fellow. Everybody 
has went to bed but me. I’m looking for Ezra in 
every minute. He’s went over the mountain today, 
and he counted on getting back so late that he’d stop 
with me. You go up in the loft and crawl in with 
the two little boys. No one else up there. Ezra, 
he’ll sleep down in here.” 

Frank took down a four-barreled pistol from the 
armory on the joists of the dirty, cheerless cabin. 

“I’ll take this up with me,” he quietly remarked. 
I see it is loaded. Between this thing and my knife 
I’ll be in better shape.” 

“What can you want of that pepper-box?” de- 
manded the man. “You’ll not be meddled with 
in here.” 

“And I don’t intend to be, very much. But you 
know one has to go into your loft by an outside lad- 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


153 


der, and there’s no shutter for the place you crawl 
in at.” 

“Why, yes there is; and a brace to hold it by. 
You can put that up if you feel anyways skeery, 
though it’ll make a hot nest; there’s no window, 
you see.” 

Frank again made sure the weapon was loaded, and 
then climbed into the loft, securing the shutter not only 
by the brace but by a heavy box. He lay without 
undressing on the edge of the shakedown in which 
the boys were asleep. As is rather natural with a 
young person, he was inclined to magnify his peril, 
and he determined to keep awake. It did not seem 
that his resolution would be hard to maintain, for 
the excitement of the last half hour had indefinitely 
deferred any inclination to sleep. He entertained 
unpleasant doubts as to the securit}" of his refuge, and 
he resolved to give a good account of himself in case 
he were molested. 

After what may not have been more than an hour, 
although the quiet interval seemed interminably long, 
the sound of a pacing horse broke the stillness, and soon 
the loud voice of Ezra Sheres was heard at the door. 

“ I’ll hitch the animal first. Sleep in here or up in 
the loft ? ” 

“Just which you like ? ’’ 

“Well — down here, I believe.” 

A few moments later there seemed to be a colloquy 
at the foot of the ladder. Frank crept softly for- 
ward and put his ear to a crevice. The cabin was very 

low and he was able to catch most of what was said. 

10 


154 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“ Hadn’t Ezra better go up and sleep? Then he 
can search him,” came the voice of Gatt. 

“No,” was the response of John Gal wix. “He’s 
down on Ezra and might not let him in. He’s a res- 
olute skunk, that boy is; and I’d like to get even with 
him to this extent. He don’t know enough to hurt 
us, but he’d better not find out anything more.” 

“Then we might as well call it a bad job and go 
on,” rejoined Gatt. “We’ll not get any pay for to- 
night’s frolic.” 

“Thank you, John Gal wix,” was the mental com- 
ment of the listener. “I may come to know a good 
deal more instead of just a little. You are a fox but 
foxes have holes.” 

Frank had now made another discovery. Galwix 
and Gatt were thieves, and Ezra Sheres was their 
accomplice. They had intended to commit robbery 
but not to cause him bodily harm. Gatt had cer- 
tainly learned that Frank possessed money, and his 
chief might be in collusion with citizens of high 
standing. But why had they undergone so much 
trouble for a matter of ten dollars ? Might there 
not be an element of revenge in the proceeding ? 
What if his letter had fallen into their hands ? 

Yet in spite of these disquieting thoughts, drow- 
siness finally overtook the refugee, and he awoke 
only at the sound of breakfast preparations. He 
gave no sign, either to uncle or nephew, that he 
had heard the conversation at the foot of the lad- 
der, and he endeavored to mask all suspicion of his 
entertainers. 


XIII 


THE SHADOW OF SLAVERY. 

I would not have a slave to till my ground, 

And tremble when I wake for all the wealth 
That sinews, bought and sold, have ever earned. 

— Cowper. 

Sunshine goes far to dispel the fear which thrives 
in the darkness of the night or in the gloom of the 
cloud. Frank was now inclined to think lightly of 
his adventure. With the impatience of time which is 
characteristic of youth, he believed Galwix and his 
allies would soon be brought to book. 

He had asked for a leave of absence from his work 
and he was going across the river. There would be 
preaching that very afternoon at the church in the 
glades, and as his mother had now made him new 
summer clothes, he could reappear at Almeda’s home 
in presentable garb. And furthermore, if Galwix 
and Gatt were not quicker than he, there could be an 
undisturbed visitation of the Humbert cabin. 

He arrived at the church before the hour of preach- 
ing, and found the way open for going to the Wal- 
bridge home with the girl of his preference. It was 
now midsummer, and if the bevy of sisters were not 
attired in the elaborate, mill-woven costumes of the 
twentieth century, their clear complexions and rosy 
cheeks appeared to no disadvantage in the plain sun 
bonnet, and the flaxen dress, with its red and blue 
stripes. 


156 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


Almeda was no coquette, even if there were a seem- 
ing reserve in the welcome she gave her admirer. 
But the affected constraint soon wore away during 
the long tete-a-tete in the grape arbor before the 
house. It was tacitly understood in the family that 
the young man from over the river came as a would- 
be suitor, and that his suit was favorably considered. 

When, however, the visitor reached the Kester 
house and had a confidential talk with Robert, he 
discerned a cloud in the horizon. 

“ So far, you are all right over to the other house,” 
said the friend. “Some of them were speaking about 
you this evening. But if you don’t look close, there’s a 
fellow come in the settlement who will try to cut you 
out.” 

“Who is he?” demanded Frank, his anger rising. 

“A fellow named Galwix, who has been round the 
settlement since you was here last.’’ 

“I know him.” 

“And by the way you talk, you don’t know much 
good of him ? ” 

“No, I don’t. Well, how does he stand over here ? ” 

“O, he knows everybody for miles around. Some 
of the people is mightily took with him. He has an 
awful clever way, and makes friends easy. Great 
fellow to praise up the women and get the good side 
of them. Big talker, he is. Some don’t say so very 
much about him — the men folks, I mean — but I don’t 
hear nobody talk agen him.” 

“Has he been going to Walbridge’s much ?” pur- 
sued the still frowning visitor. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


157 


“No, not so very much yet. He’s trying- to shine 
up to Almeda, but I know she don’t favor him.” 

“So he couldn’t pick out anj^body over here but 
her ? ” 

“For a while people thought he’d started out to go 
with Becky Niles, but I think there’s nothing in that 
any more.’’ 

“ He won’t get this girl if I can help it,” exclaimed 
Frank. 

“ What’s the matter with him ? ” demanded Robert. 

“I’ll tell you before long.” 

But did not Frank make an error in being so close- 
mouthed ? Let us watch and see. 

‘ ‘ Been by the Humbert house since I was here ? ” 
asked Frank. 

“Nary time. I don’t know whether that unsocia- 
ble fellow’s there yet or not.” 

“What say to going over in the morning, if you 
can get off ” 

“All right. And then let’s ride over to Winn’s 
mill. There’s a horse you can have. I am going on 
an errand for dad. Some fine farms that-a-way, and 
some of them people has niggers to work them.” 

“Yes, I’ll go with you.” 

Frank was greatly disturbed through hearing of 
the role in which Galwix had now appeared. As a 
suitor, he knew the crafty, ubiquitous man had 
advantages over himself. Galwix was considerably 
older, but was still counted as a young man. He had 
an easy affabilit)^, was comparatively polished, and 
was believed to be comfortably provided with this 


158 


land of thf LAURKL. 


world’s goods. In being- looked up to as a man of travel 
and accomplishments, he was likel3 r to be favorably 
reg-arded by the match promoters and the marriage- 
able j^oung- women of the community. 

Frank was himself 3^oung and green, but there rose 
in his breast a fierce determination to balk the shady 
person who had now essayed to cross his path. In 
attempting to rob him, had not Galwix sought to frus- 
trate his present visit out of pure malice ? It was 
possible for the counterfeiter to learn that he had 
intended to make this visit. But his own suspicions 
of Galwix were not conclusively proved, and even 
were he to make them public, that experienced man 
of smooth tongue and rubber conscience would suc- 
ceed in laughing them out of the minds of people. 

The trip to the Humbert house was made afoot, 
and Frank carried a hammer and an iron rod wrap- 
ped in a cloth. The approach was made b3 r the ravine 
and there was no glimpse of a watchful dog- to raise 
a menacing- howl. The sig-ht of a padlock on the 
door of the cabin was hailed as a good omen. 

Without further hesitation, the bo3 7 s attacked the 
door fastening with rod and hammer and dogwood 
wedg-es. The staple was quickly forced from the 
oaken doorpost. 

But a rapid 3^et searching- examination of the dark 
interior was disappointing-. There was a dirty bed, 
and also a few cooking utensils with a very unappe- 
tizing appearance. There was coal dust on the floor, 
but no visible explanation of the furnace-like appear- 
ance of the cabin on the night of their former visit. 


IyAND OF THF FAURFIy. 


159 


Between two puncheons was a distinct crevice, 
and Frank’s quick eye caug-ht sig-ht of an object on 
the ground below, brig-htly reflecting- the rays of the 
morning- sun. Darting- out of the door and calling- 
his companion as a witness to his act, he reached un- 
derneath and drew out a brig-ht coin. 

“Put it in your pocket while we fix the door,” said 
Frank hurriedly. 

The staple was replaced, and it was seen that it 
would require something- more than a casual look to 
tell the occupants that the fastening- had been tam- 
pered with. 

“That job is done,” said Frank, as they reg-ained 
the shadow of the woods. “The fellow was not here 
to see us. Now, don’t forg-et how and where that 
coin was found.” 

“It is a brig-ht new dollar,” observed Robert, giv- 
ing- the coin to the finder, “but I don’t reckon it is a 
g-ood one, do you?” 

“No; there’s no doubt they made it in there. Now 
there’s another place we want to look at.’’ 

Frank led the way to the cranny in the ledg-e. The 
surface of the dry soil looked as it did before, but the 
most thoroug-h probing- failed to disclose the board or 
anything- else of interest. 

“They have hid their outfit somewhere else. At 
any rate, what they kept in here has been taken 
away,” observed the disappointed leader. 

Aside from the finding- of the coin, this visit to the 
old house was totally unavailing. Had the inmates 
taken an alarm arid abandoned the place? The inves- 


160 


LAND OF THF LAURHL. 


tigator was now still more apprehensive that his 
letter had fallen into their hands. He felt that the 
game was slipping’ out of the snare. 

Returning- to the Kester farm, and putting 1 away 
their burglarizing- outfit, they rode six miles throug-h 
grassy glades and over wooded elevations, to the mill 
and farm of Walton G. Winn. Unlike the gristmill 
Frank had previously seen, the one he now beheld was 
a frame structure, and for its day it was well equipped 
with machine^. Across the road and shaded by sev- 
eral native pines was the low and newly built frame 
dwelling- of the proprietor. 

Major Winn was tall, rotund, and fair of face. He 
was slow of speech, not faultless in his grammar, and 
thoug-h not possessed of g-eneral information he was a 
man of much local prominence. 

While Robert was attending- to his errand, Frank 
became a very interested listener to the conversation 
of two men whose dress proclaimed them to be deni- 
zens of the town rather than the country. One of 
them he had seen in King-wood, but the speech and 
demeanor of the other marked him as a stranger in 
these hills. As they stepped out of the mill the man 
from the county seat had a word for the operating 
miller, a hugh African. 

“Well, Zack, you have it all to yourself in here.” 

“Yes, boss, on’y long in holiday time, wen dese 
wuthless niggers is layin’ off. When da cum in hyer 
an’ goes t’ tumblin’ down, beas’ly drunk, I jus’ frows 
’em out, nigger by nigger; don’t ’low ’em in hyer.” 

“ That’s the way to do, Zack.” 


AN OLD WATER MIEE Phot'd by C. S. Rexroad. 


















vrf* 


• f 


r 


















9 































. * 
















































LAND OF THF LAURFL 


161 


“ Hya, hya,’’ laughed the gaint, showing his ivories. 

“ Zack is a very faithful hand,” continued the white 
speaker, moving toward the tree where Frank was 
sitting in the shade. “You see it’s the custom to 
give the niggers a week off from Christmas to New 
Year’s, and that’s about the only time they get hold 
of any liquor to fill up on. The major owns quite a 
number of niggers. We have only some sixty or sev- 
enty slaves in the county, and perhaps more than 
half are owned by four families right in this settle- 
ment. Slaveholders are influential, well-to-do peo- 
ple. They are good judges of land, and have some 
of the choicest tracts in the county. Colonel Fairfax 
was, perhaps, the first to bring niggers in here. 
That was some sixty years ago. He patented a large 
tract of land in these glades.” 

At this moment a man came to the mill from a 
westerly direction. Before him walked a sullen, 
handcuffed negro, who was ordered to sit on the plat- 
form by the door. He obeyed, rolling his eyes in a 
surly manner toward the guard. 

“What does this mean?” asked the companion of 
the man from the county seat. 

“Why, it is one of the Major’s boys who ran off to 
Pennsylvania and was captured. There is a buyer 
here toda} r , who will take him farther south. He’ll 
get a mighty heavy flogging for running away — ” 

“ That is simply infamous,” interrupted the other 
speaker. “O, the sin and shame and crime of hold- 
ing human beings in bondage, and selling them to a 


162 


LAND OF THF LAURFL 


hard master because they try to vindicate their God- 
given freedom.” 

“Mr. Little,” said the first speaker, very earnestly, 
as he laid his hand on the other’s arm, “let me give 
you a word of friendly caution: You are a New Eng- 
land man, an abolitionist, and don’t look on these 
things like we do. Your opinions expressed to 
me alone will go no further. But by the laws of 
Virginia that man yonder, or this young man under 
the tree, could take you before a justice, and by our 
statutes you could be sent to jail a 3 r ear, and also be 
fined five hundred dollars.” 

“For what, Mr. Whiting ? ’ ’ exclaimed the stranger, 
in great surprise. 

“For what you just said; denjdng the right of pro- 
perty in slaves.” si 

“ And yet this is called a free land!” protested Little. 

“The land of the free and the home of the slave,” 
smiled Whiting. “But, Mr. Little, to actively ques- 
tion the right of property in slaves is an offense 
against the public policy of the state of Virginia. 
Such utterances tend to jeopardize a large class of 
our propert} r . Now, what is propert} r by virtue of 
law is entitled to protection by law. Propert}^ is not 
to be destroj T ed without compensation from some 
source. If I were to write, print or circulate a book 
tending to cause revolt among the slaves, I would have 
from one to five 3 r ears in prison. If 3 t ou were to send 
me such book by mail it would be the postmaster’s 
duty to notif3^ the justice, who would then have it 
burned in his presence. If I received the book know- 


LAND OF THF LAURFL 


163 


ing-ly I could be sent to jail. If the postmaster fail 
to observe this statute, he is fined not over two hun- 
dred dollars. And to make such infractions of our 
state law the less liable to work mischief, it is an 
offense to teach niggers to read and write, punish- 
able by six months in jail and one hundred dollars 
fine. That is why we oppose the circulation in our 
state of the New York Tribune, or any other paper 
of the same sort.” 

“ What a travesty on freedom of speech or of the 
press!” exclaimed Little, with intense indig-nation. 

“It is a curtailment only in one specific direction, . 
and to safeguard a special class of property. We 
do not see the inconsistency that you do.” 

“I thoug-ht your people in these mountains were 
opposed to slavey,’’ said Little. 

“Speaking- generally, we are,” assented Whiting-. 
“The majorit}^ of us are democrats, and that party 
leans most strongly toward slavery. And yet nearly 
all our people, regardless of political lines, look upon 
the institution with disfavor. There are fifteen hun- 
dred families in this county, and not one in a hun- 
dred of them owns slaves. There are few others 
who would wish to own them. I would not own one 
myself under any consideration. We work with our 
own hands, men and women both, just like you do in the 
North. But we are law-abiding and do not set our 
local preferences against the choice of the state. I 
could point you to one of our prominent men who will 
not have cane sugar in his house, or use anything made 
of cotton, because those products are grown by slave 


164 


land of the laurel 


labor. It is because of the prevailing- sentiment 
in this region that the strict construction of our slav- 
ery statutes is not insisted upon. Yet an unfriendly 
person might insist upon the letter of the law, and 
make trouble in the way I cautioned you about.” 

“ You do not allow j^our people even to examine 
the other side of the question,” declared Little, with 
vehemence. “How can 3 r our people be freemen in 
fact, when they dare not even speak on such a vital 
matter? You permit 3 r our lawmakers to prescribe 
what you shall think.” 

The discussion was now interrupted by the approach 
of Major Winn and a coarse, stout-featured man, with 
a broad brimmed hat. 

“He is the slave dealer,” remarked Whiting to his 
companion. “The Major will not get full price for 
the boy. A reward will go to the man who recaptured 
him.” 

While the dealer was counting out a sum of money 
to the custodian of the slave, a man rode up to the 
mill and tied his horse. To Frank’s surprise, as well 
as to his disgust and anger, the newcomer was Gal- 
wix. He accosted Major Winn in his familiar way, 
but vouchsafed onl3 r a distant nod to the man with 
the captive. 

Frank was between the mill and the dwelling, and 
he had taken a position where he could not be recog- 
nized by Galwix. Robert now appeared at a farther 
corner of the house and beckoned him. Taking notice 
that Galwix stood with his back in his direction, and 
keeping a tree between himself and the object of his 


LAND OF THF LAUREL 


165 


dislike, Frank quickly rejoined his friend, and they 
passed into the sitting- room by a rear entrance. 

“I called you up for dinner,” explained Robert. 
“The family has just eaten. The man that’s just 
come, and the fellow that boug-ht the nigger, will be 
up here soon.” 

“ They are coming now,” said Frank. 

Galwix walked in front, but came to a halt on the 
porch. 

“Why, on my word, I believe this is Joshua Sprowl,” 
said the first comer, extending his hand, and speak- 
ing in a low voice. 

Through the crevice of a slightly open door, Frank 
saw the man Sprowl slip a wad into the hand of Gal- 
wix. The former person then passed through the 
hall in search of an opportunity to wash, while Gal- 
wix took a seat on the porch and unfolded a newspa- 
per. Yet the observer saw the man thrust the wad 
into his pocket and then produce another roll, out of 
which several bills were withdrawn and folded to- 
gether. The captor of the slave returned to the porch, 
passed close to Galwix, and his hand was seen to close 
upon the small roll which the sitting man deftly poked 
into his palm. 

“ So Galwix gets the whole reward,” thought the 
spy. “He couldn’t afford to pay the man out of the 
same money he took. He handles counterfeit paper 
as well as coin.” 

Frank beat a noiseless retreat to the other side of 
the room, took a seat near his friend, and began to 
gaze very intently into a book lying on Robert’s knee. 


166 


LAND OF THK LAURKL 


At the dinner table the smiling- Galwix conversed 
with Frank as though the incident of the Sheres 
cabin had never taken place, and the youth ag-ain met 
him on his own ground. 



XIV 


A CONQUEST. 

True love’s the gift which God has given ^ 

To men alone beneath the heaven . 

—Scott. 

Soon after the return from the mill, Frank went 
across the fields to the Walbridge home. He would 
have to start for the river early in the morning-, and 
he wished to forestall a possible visit from Galwix. 

He approached the house throug-h the orchard, 
treading- on a velvetv carpet of soft grass, and stooped 
to pick up a windfall apple. Almeda was paring- 
potatoes on the porch, and Delia was shelling- pole 
beans. The junior sister considerately withdrew into 
the kitchen with her basket. 

“Don’t eat those thing’s, Frank!” exclaimed 
Almeda. “Those tying- out there on the ground are 
no g-ood. We picked up the best ones this morning-. 
Here are some of them, here in this crock. Help 3^our- 
self, but you’ll have to rub them with that cloth. 
There was dew on the ground when we picked the 
apples up.” 

“Is that corn to be husked?” inquired Frank, indi- 
cating- a mound of ears on the work table. 

“Yes; don’t you think they are big- ones for this 
early in the summer? ” 

“Let me strip the husks off ?” asked the caller. 

“If you want to,” was the laug-hing- response. 

The variety of garden vegetables was very nearly 
the same then as now, and they were very much used 


168 


land of the laurel 


to eke out the deficient of flour and meal, which was 
liable to exist while the streams were very low. But 
the ears which Frank was divesting’ of the shuck 
were of field corn and not the sweet variety. 

“There’s some cherries to pick after I’m done with 
these potatoes,” continued the girl. “We are going 
to have some for supper, and you must stay and help 
eat them.” 

“Then I will help pick them,” declared Frank. “I 
see there’s a fine lot on the trees.” 

“Me and Annie and Genie will have to go out in 
the wheat field tomorrow,” announced Almeda. “Bob 
is coming over to help dad sickle, and we girls will 
bind and shock. We do most all our harvest work 
ourselves. Dad always talks of trading some of us 
off for bo} r s, but the work gets done all the same.” 

“Don’t get much chance to read a book in summer 
time ? ” suggested the visitor. 

“No; but I like to read powerful well. 

“I’ll bring you over some of mine.” 

“I’d be ever so glad. This man that’s round here, 
John Galwix, brought me one the other day, but I 
haven’t looked into it.” 

Almeda’s face had now become more serious and she 
compressed her lips. Frank divined that the gift was 
little appreciated. 

“You know the man?” ventured the girl, after a 
silence. 

“ Yes, I know him.” 

In the short and crisp reply the girl read that Gal- 
wix did not stand well in Frank’s estimation. The 


land of thf laurkl 


169 


stranger was at once lowered in her own, quite as surely 
as though Frank had not curbed his impulse to dis- 
parage his rival. Yet the monosjdlable reply of the 
honest-faced visitor had a volume of meaning to her. 

The unpleasant topic was now dismissed, and the 
two 3^oung people were again chatting vivaciously. 

“O Delia, come take the potatoes in. I’m going to 
pick the cherries.” 

“I will hold down the branches so you can use both 
hands, and I can use one of mine, too,” said Frank, as 
he followed the girl to a tree laden with black 
cherries. 

“How do you like it over here in the glades, 
Frank ? ” 

What ulterior meaning lurked in Almeda’s words? 

“Ver)^ well, indeed,” was the prompt reply. “But 
it’s a job getting across the river hills. I have to 
climb them where they are the heaviest.’’ 

Frank presently threw a glance toward the basket 
and saw that it was rapidly- filling. 

“Medie!” 

The tone of this word of address indicated that the 
speaker had a topic in his mind which was not com- 
monplace. The girl’s face colored in anticipation, as 
she turned toward the row of hives whither the bees 
were bearing nectar from the buckwheat blossoms. 

“ Medie, may I come over to see you when my next 
month is out ? ” 

“Why, yes.” 

The reply was low and the girl’s eyes were directly 
n 


170 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


downward, but the smile which enlivened her face 
was one of pleasure. 

“ May I come sooner ? ” 

“Any time you like.” 

“ Medie, I like you a whole lot better than any other 
girl I ever knew, and I want you to like me.” 

The basket was not filling now. The color again 
came to the girl’s face as she turned her ej^es and 
caught the earnestness in those that were bent upon 
her. Then she looked toward another orchard tree of 
pale green foliage. 

“ I hope you will come over when peaches are ripe. 
They are such nice ones.” 

Only in words was this answer indirect. They had 
a second and deeper meaning to Frank. Yes, the 
peaches were maturing fast and would soon be ripe. 

It was no time to hesitate, yet Delia alwa3 r s averred 
that Frank took a hurried look toward the house 
before pressing his lips to those of her sister. And 
if the salute was resented, it did not appear in the 
insistent invitation for Frank to fill his pockets with 
the Sunday sweets, which Almeda plucked from an 
apple tree; nor did it appear in the liberality with 
which his dish of cherries was filled at the supper table. 

Frank returned to his work with his heart much 
lighter than when Robert had given him the disquiet- 
ing news. He believed that Galwix was no more than 
a vrould-be interloper at best, and that a mere flirta- 
tion was all he had in view. 


XV 


THE TRAIL OF THE SERPENT. 

Think ’st thou there are no serpents in the world 
But those who glide along the grassy sod? 

— Joanna Baillie. 

Almost on the very eve of another return to the 
glades, there came to Frank a disquieting- letter. 
This message we quote entire. 

Kingwood, Va., July 25, 1848. 

My Friend Frank: 

You probably expected to hear from me long before 
this concerning your prospect of going to West Point. 
For quite a while Mr. Downs was not ready to say 
whether he would have the placing of an appoint- 
ment. He now tells me he shall, and that he does 
not intend to name any person until fall. But he 
sa} r s he can offer you no encouragement. He declines 
to say why he cannot favor 3 r ou, but I hope the objec- 
tion may be removed in time. I remain 

Your friend, 

J. H. DarrelE* 

“Well,” thought the sorely disappointed reader, 
“I’ll get an education some way, West Point or no 
West Point.” 

The last day of the month Frank was again on the 
south shore of the Cheat. It was not Sundajq but he 
went at once to a camp ground very close to the 
church in the glades. In the midst of a semi-circle of 
small tents, and among several fine shade trees, was 


172 


LAND OF THK LAURKL 


a space fitted up with planks resting - on log’s and 
other supports, and ample enoug-h to seat a larg-er 
audience than the thinty settled condition of the 
country would seemingly warrant. The preacher’s 
platform was at a hig-her level, but was rude in the 
extreme, and without an overhead shelter. 

In the outskirts and away from the stirring - scene 
at the center, were men and boys smoking, drinking - , 
swearing and trafficking. It was as though the 
dregs in the thoughts of the crowd of humanity had 
settled at the outer edge of the camp ground. 

But the people on the benches were oblivious to 
what was going on without. There was a dense 
group around the mourner’s bench. Fervent prayers 
were punctuated by the shouts of the listeners or 
sundered by enthusiastic singing of familiar hymns. 
Ever and anon there rang out the powerful voice of 
a preacher at the stand. He was tall and spare, and 
his bronzed face was made intensel) 7- alive by the 
dark eyes that flashed from below the long, black 
hair. There was Indian blood in his veins, and the 
native eloquence of his mother’s race thrilled and 
swayed the audiences that felt its power. 

A man suddenly came in at the side of the amphi- 
theater, drew to her feet a girl kneeling at the altar, 
and pulled her after him. 

There was a withering look on the stern face of 
the preacher as he delivered these words: “The fow- 
ler of the Lord has done his duty and wounded the 
game, but the old hell-hawk has gathered it up and 
there he goes with it.” 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


173 


Then pointing- his long index finger toward the 
retreating-, sneaking- man, he continued his invective, 
with deep-toned vehemence: “Thank God! His day 
will come ! The hour is not far distant when that 
miserable, unrepentant sinner will be chained down 
on hell’s brazen floor, and the devil with his 
three-pronged harpoon will pierce his reeking heart, 
and pile upon him the redhot cinders of black damn- 
ation as high as these hills tower above the swelling 
floods of yonder river; and he will fry the fat out of 
his heart to grease the gudgeons of the rag-wheels of 
hell ! ” 

Of such as this were the terrific outbursts which 
characterized the “wild preacher,” as he was often 
called. His hearers could well-nigh see the flashes 
of the forked lightning, and hear the roll of the echo- 
ing thunders in the dismal abode of the lost. The 
churchgoer of our own time may shake his head in 
doubt at preaching of such terror-inspiring charac- 
ter; but the listener of that day might doubt the 
power of the less vehement stjde of the present era. 
Human thought is perpetually flowing into new 
moulds, and each generation may well take pause 
before sitting in judgment on its predecessors. 

Frank was astounded to see John Galwix arise from 
a seat near the mourner’s bench, and with folded 
hands address the noisy throng in a tone of much 
humility. 

“My Christian friends, I am thankful that I stand 
here today a new man. M} r past life has not been 
what it should be. I have made crooked paths. I 


174 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


ask the prayers of you all, that I may now live a 
faithful soldier of the cross.” 

“Amen ! God bless you ! ” came a chorus from the 
immediate vicinity. 

Frank’s parents were God-fearing people, and had 
brought up their family to follow in their steps. 
The young man wished to give Galwix the benefit of 
the doubt that immediately came into his thoughts. 
But Frank had seen into the hidden side of Galwix, 
and the speech did not have the true ring. And fur- 
ther, he was not reassured in having seen Gatt among 
the hangers-on at the edge of the camp. But neither 
did the would-be robber nor his intended victim give 
any manifest sign of recognizing the other. 

Frank resolved on an experiment. As the audience 
dispersed for dinner he put himself in the path of 
Galwix. But though the professed convert was shak- 
ing hands right and left, he appeared totally unable 
to see Frank until this subterfuge was balked by an 
elder \j companion. 

“Brother Galwix, here is a 3 r oung friend I have 
seen before in the settlement. Shake hands with him.” 

“I am glad to see 3 r ou here,” was the effusive re- 
sponse. “I hope you are on the right side.” 

Galwix passed on, his hollow greeting being a suf- 
ficient proof to Frank of his insincerit3 r . 

The Walbridges were tenting on the ground, and 
Frank discerned a marked falling off from the cor- 
diality hitherto shown him. Almeda had seemed to 
lose her former vivacit3 r , and there was a wistful look 
in her eyes which it pained him to see. This changed 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


175 


demeanor he could not altogether attribute to the 
seriousness of the meeting, and when he saw Galwix 
approach to share their dinner as by right, he with- 
drew in chagrin. He could not endure sitting at the 
same board with the man, and he sought out Robert 
Kester, who followed him into a field. 

Bob, what all has happened since I was here last ? ” 

“ Redhot meeting; thirty conversions already — ” 

“Yes, I see; but how are things over at the other 
house ? ” 

“Well Frank, that fellow Galwix is after your 
girl, and no mistake. She and Genia and Delia got 
converted, and then he’s took an interest.” 

“ Right after they came out ? ” 

“Well, no; he began a little sooner, I believe.” 

“I understand what that means. Well, how does 
he come on?” 

“He goes there powerful often, Frank. He seems 
bent on getting Medie, though I can’t see as she is 
very sweet on him. The folks is all on his side, 
though ; and then there is something else I will let 
you onto. Her dad has went in debt to buy that farm 
and it is giving him about all he wants to manage. 
He has other debts, too, though they’re not so very 
much. Now, Galwix says he’ll come in and take the 
mortgage up if Medie will have him.’’ 

“And take the farm, too?” 

“No, I don’t understand it that-a-way.” 

“But he does. He’ll look out for himself. I ex- 
pect he’s made himself solid all round here now.” 

“He stands better than he did, because he’s come 


176 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


out in meeting. He talks about settling down here.” 

“And being good?” 

“Frank, you don’t like him any better ’n you ever 
did.” 

“I don’t have reason to. He’s got no more religion 
now than he had before the meeting, and he hadn’t a 
bit then. You don’t know as much about him as I 
do.’’ 

“You think he’s a hypocrite?’’ 

“I don’t think so, I know it. Now tell me, Bob, 
have yon been hearing anj^thing said against me?” 

“Well — there is some stuff going round, but I never 
believed it. It’s told you waste time in 3^our work, 
and can’t be depended on. And its told that in your 
school last winter Billson was mighty partial to you, 
and no one else could get any show in the spelling 
matches. Then they say 3 T ou stole a pistol out of a 
house, and chased a man with it, after dark.’’ 

“All those things are lies, and they come from 
Galwix.” 

“I never heard nothing from him.’’ 

Course not — he gets some one else to spread the 
tales. Well, I’m going to see Medie and then I’m 
going back.’’ 

“Why, aint 3 r ou going home with me?’’ 

“Not this time, Bob; but I’ll be over again soon.” 

Knowing that Galwix would delight in monopoliz- 
ing Almeda’s society to the exclusion of his own, 
Frank had recourse to stratagem. Soon after the 
congregation had reassembled, he stole through the 
crowd to where Almeda was sitting. 


I,AND OF THF FAURFIv. 


177 


“Medie,” he whispered, “come out to your tent, so 
I can talk to you just a little bit.” 

“Are you going- back so quick?” 

“Yes, I must.” 

Without further parley the girl followed him to the 
side of her tent, where they occupied a plank resting 
on blocks. Galwix saw the movement but was pow- 
erless against it. The trusty lieutenant, Robert, was 
on guard against eavesdroppers. 

“Medie, do you wish me to come to see you any 
more?” 

“Yes.” 

The swift reply sounded very sincere, but the girl’s 
face was troubled. 

“Medie, if you like that man better than you do 
me, I don’t want to come.” 

There was no reply, but the heaving breast told of 
the emotion within. 

“Medie, do you like me? Tell me out, this time.” 

“Yes.” 

“Best of all?” 

“You know I do.” 

“Medie, Bob has told me how things are. And he 
tells me there’s stories out about me. I know where 
they come from, Medie. But will you believe those 
stories if I tell you, honest and true, there’s nothing 
in them?” 

“No, I don’t believe them. I don’t believe they 
come straight.’’ 

‘ ‘ Around our settlement I have always had a good 
name, if I do say it myself.” 


178 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“I am so sorry thing’s is what they are. I don’t 
like that man. I don’t believe he is g-ood.” 

“I’m poor, Medie, but I don’t want a g-irl I couldn’t 
have without buying-. Now, g-ood by, Medie; I’ll 
come over again. It won’t be so long- this time.’’ 

There was another kiss, but there was no remon- 
strance, and Frank did not care if he had been seen 
by Galwix or a dozen others like him. 


XVI 

A DARK HOUR. 

Innocence of life, consciousness of worth, and great expectations 
are the best foundations of courage. — Elmes. 

During- the week that followed the visit to the camp 
meeting-, Frank observed a rapidly growing- coolness 
toward him in Brandonville. It had begun before the 
last trip across the river, but its appearance and devel- 
opment had both been very insidious. From having 
been a general favorite, because of his intelligence, 
his capabilitj^ and his bright, cheery manner, he had 
of late rapidly fallen under a cloud which he could not 
understand. 

Barly one morning Mr. Biggins called him into the 
store. 

“ Frank,” said the merchant, “I am sorry for what 
I hear has happened. There has been some thieving 
from the persons you are in contact with the most, 
and suspicion has fallen on yom At first I would not 
believe the reports at all. Finally, Luke Chinnell has 
gone over the matter with me, and your usefulness is 
so impaired that I feel constrained to pay you off and 
terminate the employment.” 

“ Do 3^ou mean I am to lose my place on account of 
heresay stories ? ” demanded the astonished and indig- 
nant youth. 

“If you can show there is no foundation for the 
stories, no one will be better pleased than I. Money 
has been missed, and Chinnell himself has lost a five 
dollar pocket piece. Have you missed any money ?” 


180 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“No, sir ; and I have not stolen a penny from any 
one. You or anybody else is welcome to search me.” 

“Will you let me examine your purse in the presence 
of Chinnell ? ” 

“Yes, and welcome.” 

“ Here’s Luke Chinnell, right now. Luke, would 
you recognize 3 r our half eagle ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, by a scar made across the face with a knife* 
It has the date 1841.’’ 

Frank handed his wallet to Mr. Biggens, who poured 
the contents into his open palm. 

“Sixteen dollars and ninety-two cents,” reported 
the merchant. “ This is more than I paid you last 
month. I find one gold coin, and it is a five dollar 
piece, date 1841, and a scar across one face. Would 
you take oath it is 3 ^ours, Luke?” 

“Yes, indeed, I would.” 

“ Let him take it,” said Frank. “I never had any 
gold piece, and I don’t know how that one came 
there.” 

“ He’ s good on a bluff , ” muttered Chinnell, as he 
pocketed the 3 r ellow coin. 

“ Dou you suspect this man of putting his coin in 
your pocket for any purpose? ” asked the merchant. 

“No, I don’t accuse him nor any one else around 
here. What I do know is that some person put it 
there, and some more money besides. I had about 
three dollars, but not any more. I cannot tell precisely 
how much.” 

“Then, leaving out the half-eagle, yon would have 


IyAND OF THF IyAURKF. 


181 


here something- like nine dollars too much ? ” sug- 
gested the merchant. 

“Just about,” assented Prank. 

“I am owing you nine dollars, lacking five cents. 
Suppose you retain what you have here and we will 
call it square ? ” 

“Very well,” was the reply. 

“H’m,” grunted Chinnell. 

“I most sincerely hope this cloud will be removed,” 
said Mr. Biggins. “Good day, sir.” 

“Good da}\ This stealing is not my work and I 
shall always say- so,” said Frank passing out of the 
store. 

“Galwix had a hand in this, some way,” mentally 
added the stern-faced youth, as he left the village, 
followed by an unnoticed leer on the countenance of 
a young man. 

The parents of Frank were indignant at his dis- 
missal, and the} r knew their son too well to believe 
there was any loophole in his protestations of inno- 
cence. But for the present there seemed nothing to 
do but to lend a hand in the work of the farm. That 
very afternoon he took a straight-handled scythe and 
went into the ha3 r field. 

Yet it was only a few days until the } r oung man 
was once more across the Cheat. The river chasm, 
with its tedious descent and toilsome assent, and it’s 
want of a wagon-path or established ferry, was not 
conducive to intimacy between the dwellers on the 
opposing hilltops. Some people who lived within 
sight of neighbors across the gorge never undertook 


182 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


the passage. But the magnet which Frank had dis- 
covered among the hills of the farther tableland, 
caused him to esteem the transit as something scarce 
worthy of mention. From near his own home he 
could recognize the Walbridge house. 

On the present occasion he had another purpose in 
view beside learning how his rival fared across the 
river. He had written another letter to Hoover, and 
he was going on to Kingwood to mail it there. The 
absent friend had shown that he had confidence in 
the postmaster at Kingwood, and from that office, 
therefore, the letter could safely be forwarded. At 
the county seat he might even learn something as to 
the whereabouts of Hoover. The summer was rap- 
idly going, and the man had told him he might 
return within a few months. There was an intense 
longing in Frank’s heart for the power to unmask 
Galwix so conclusively that the blight of his pres- 
ence might never be seen again in that whole region. 

The first time that Frank passed down the creek 
valley which he was now ascending from the river, 
the dewy vegetation was of a vivid green, and the 
blackberry canes along the roadway were flecked 
with masses of snowy bloom. These very briers 
were now thickl}^ dotted with their ebon fruit, and the 
grass in the pastures had begun to show traces of the 
tawny hue of oncoming fall. These changes had 
been wrought within the span of a single summer, 
and the years speed slowly to the 3 T oung. Yet it 
seemed to Frank that he had lived several j^ears since 
the buds of this very season had unfolded. 


I<AND OF THK LAUREL. 


183 


Almeda was sitting at her work on the porch, 
where these young people had first met. In her 
smile of welcome was an undertone of sadness which 
he had never seen on his former visits to her home. 
She was not singing now, as was her custom. It 
caused a pang in Frank’s bosom to witness the 
eclipse of her earlier bljThesomeness. 

‘ ‘ Medie, couldn’t we sit out there by the grape 
vine a while ? ” • 

The girl left her work, but before sitting in the 
shade of the vine with its purple clusters, she went 
on to the peach tree and returned with several choice 
specimens of the downy fruit. Frank had indeed 
returned at the time she mentioned, but the reddish 
globes with their delicate aroma were now less allur- 
ing in consequence of the baleful shadow which had 
crept over their lives. 

Almeda was at once told the whole story of the 
alleged thieving. 

“We heard of those things, only the story made 
you out lots worse,” she remarked. 

“When was that you heard about it?” exclaimed 
the caller. 

“A few days ago. Ben Ivitz told dad. I don’t 
know where he got it from.” 

“Then some one must have made it convenient to 
come right over the river and tell people,” commented 
Frank. 

It was a matter of course that he should express 
such an opinion. The telephone and even the tele- 
graph was not then known in these hills, and news 


184 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


did not travel so swiftly as now, even apart from the 
aid of the electric wire. Was not the swift flight 
of the report across the tedious river gorge one more 
proof of the malevolence of Galwix ? 

“Now look right at me, Medie, and say if you 
believe I did that stealing-?” 

The g-irl raised her eyes, but dropped them as the 
color deepened in her cheeks. 

“No, I don’t believe it. People will know sometime 
who done it. But, Frank, I’m told for you not to 
come here any more. So I had to say it.” 

“Yes, Medie, it was right for you to tell me. But 
when I clear those stories up, I can come ag-ain, 
can’t I?” 

There was no audible reply, but the g-irl could not 
have framed a negative. 

‘ ‘I don’ t know what to do, ” was her perplexed remark, 
following a moment’s pause. “I wish that man 
would go away and leave me be. I don’t like him 
and never will. He’s asked me and I put him off. He 
knew you kissed me there at the tent, and he was 
awful mad about it. I can see through him better 
than the folks can. He’s went away now; went Sat- 
urday, and said he’d be gone a week. And he’ll be 
back, and — ” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

On Almeda’s bosom lay a coin suspended about her 
neck by a silver chain. Frank raised the coin and 
saw that it looked for all the world like the one he 
found under the Humbert house. 

“ Did he give you that ? ” he asked. 


THE BRICK ACADEMY Phot’d by C. S. Rexroad 









I.AND OF THF LAURFIy. 185 

“Yes; give it to me the day he went away, and 
wanted me to wear it while he’s gone.” 

Did you say you would ? ’ ’ 

“No, but I suppose I’ll have to.” 

“Will you let me take it with me ? I’ll bring- it 
back before he comes, honest. There is somebody I 
want to show it to.” 

The girl did not inquire into Frank’s purpose. 
Without a word she raised the chain over her head 
and passed it to him, evidently glad to be quit, even 
for a while, of the undesired keepsake. 

“There’s something I want to tell you,” exclaimed 
Almeda, running suddenly to the house but quickly 
returning. “The day before that man went away,” 
she resumed, “he got Genie to sew up a sleeve lining 
in his coat. She took the thing out in the kitchen 
and while she was sewing there was something fell 
out. She thought it was no account, and give it to 
me without opening. I turned around and found 
there was a letter and a strip of paper wrapped up in 
a sheet that was crumpled and soiled. There was no 
writing on that, and I give it back to Genie and told 
her it was no good and for her to throw it in the fire, 
and she did. And I made Genie promise she wouldn’t 
give me away. That same evening he come back, 
looking powerful worried up, and asked very sharp 
if Genie see anything fall out of his pocket. She 
said she did and throwed it in the fire, thinking it 
wasn’t nothing but waste paper. He looked ugly a 
minute or two, and then seemed to think about some- 
thing and brightened up wonderful. I’ll give you 

12 


186 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


the letter. I don’t know as it’s doing- just rig-ht, but 
— I hope it will tell something-. Somehow 1 couldn’t 
g-et myself to read it. I was afraid he mig-ht know 
in some way, and I thought it might be better if I 
didn’t. I have kept it for you, and I’ve been wanting 
to see you come.” 

The girl drew the letter from the concealment of 
her apron and passed it stealthily to her lover. He 
stowed it away with equal care, but not until he had 
seen it was addressed to Levi Gatt. He long-ed to 
open the letter and read it on the spot, but checked 
the impulse. 

“I hope it will tell something,” he declared. “If 
it does you shall know. I’ll bring- back the trinket. 
Well, Medie, I expect I must go. Good by.” 

“ Good by, Frank.” . 

He stooped and kissed her, and this time the salute 
was returned in kind. 

It seemed as though the star of Galwix was in the 
ascendant. Frank’s observations, conclusive enough 
to himself, were too unsupported to establish the 
obliquity of his crafty rival. He had lost the appoint- 
ment to the military academy, his letter had miscar- 
ried, his fair name had been besmirched, and he was 
forbidden another visit to the Walbridge home. 

But while worsted thus far, there was lacking a 
supreme triumph to the scheming Galwix. It was 
himself who had won Almeda’s love; his rival had 
utterly failed. 


XVII 

AN EVENING’S TASK. 

A brave man may fall, but cannot yield. — Anon. 

Frank was by nature circumspect and far-sighted. 
After leaving Almeda’s home he did not for a while 
examine the letter. 

“ I won’t look at it out in the field, or in a house or 
shed. Some one might spy on me. O, I know what 
I’ll do! -There’s a wild-cherry tree out on the far side 
of this hill, and I’ll climb into that.” 

The young man was at this moment taking a direct 
course, through woods and fields, toward the nearest 
road leading to the county seat. The tree toward 
which he directed his steps was not in view from any 
house, nor was it near any well-beaten path. The 
fruit was ripening and Frank had thus a plausible 
excuse for climbing well toward the top, where he 
found a convenient position and was well screened by 
the thick foliage. 

Upon unfolding the missive his first feeling was 
one of dismay. The writing was carefully done and 
the letters were easy to distinguish. But not one of 
them appeared to spell a recognizable word. The 
letter might as well have been written in French or 
Spanish for all the intelligence it yielded him. His 
disappointment was so keen that for several minutes 
he did not think of the accompanying slip. But soon 
after beginning a study of this piece of paper his 
spirits began to rise. 


188 


IvAND OF THE EAUREE. 


The slip contained letters in two vertical rows. In 
the first row were the letters of the alphabet in reg- 
ular order. Opposite a, b and c, were c, a, b. Bach 
successive set of three letters was arranged in a cor- 
responding order. 

“O, now I understand!’’ thought the interested 
examiner. “He has used a cypher alphabet, after 
the manner of the New York tories in the Revolution. 
Billson told me about that. Now, this is the key 
Galwix used in writing out his letter. He was very 
thoughtful to have it so handy by.” 

The first combinations in the letter were “ ikcfdu csi 
fhigsffm.’’ Appl} r ing the key, Frank spelled out the 
words “Glades, Aug. eighteen.” 

The young man in the treetop could scarcely con- 
tain himself, in the excitement of the discovery. 

“But I must wait till night,” was his reluctant 
conclusion. “ It will be late in the day before I can 
get to Kingwood, and I will study it out there to- 
night. I must be in a room to myself, and have a 
sheet of paper and a pen, so as to copy it.” 

Securely replacing the papers in his pocket, he slid 
down the tree and resumed his southward course. It 
was a new route by which he was now pursuing the 
way to Kingwood, yet he held the direction as though 
by instinct, and in the consuming enthusiam aroused 
by the anticipated unraveling of the secret cipher, he 
little heeded the remaining half score of miles. 

When he walked into the Kingwood postoffice, Cap- 
tain Darrell was attending to some customers, and 
the impatient young man had to wait an hour before 


I,AND OF THF IvAURKIy. 


189 


there was a suitable opportunity for an interview, 
which he would not claim in preference to the wait- 
ing- people. 

“Captain Darrell,” said Frank, coming bluntly to 
the point of interest, “ Do you know where I can find 
Mr. Hoover?” 

“Yes, I can answer that question very easily. He 
is coming- up from Winchester by the Northwestern 
Pike, and his stag-e is due at West Union* tomorrow 
evening-.” 

44 Then I shall start for there at day break.” 

“ Why not wait here for him?” asked the postmas- 
ter. “He’ll be here the next day.’’ 

“Can’t wait,” was the eager response, “I must see 
him as quick as I can.’’ 

“ You have something important to tell him ?” 

“Very important. And can you tell me now why 
Mr. Downs would not favor my application for West 
Point?” 

“It was represented to him that you were not a 
suitable person.” 

“No one else has been given the place?” 

“No one. He told me so today.” 

“ I know how such reports came to him,” declared 
Frank. 

“I hope they are unfounded,” replied Darrell. 

“What do you think of these two coins?” now 
asked the caller, bringing his hand from his pocket. 
“Are they good money ?” 

“No, they are not,” declared the postmaster, giving 


* Now Aurora. 


190 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


the pieces a scrutiny. “They are counterfeit, and 
they were cast from the same die. Do you think you 
know where they were made ? ” 

“I am sure of it. And they were made by the one 
who circulated those stories on me.” 

“Hoover will be glad to hear what you have to 
say. Here Calvert,” continued the official, addressing 
a man who appeared in the doorway, “you take this 
fellow over to the stone house and treat him well.” 

Without giving Frank an opportunity to remon- 
strate, the postmaster returned to the rear of the 
store, and his visitor followed Calvert to the Union 
Hotel. 

“Want an early start?” inquired the landlord, as 
he stood aside to let his guest precede him through 
the tavern entrance. “You can have your breakfast 
any time you like. Why, you look as if you’d been 
walking a good piece a’ ready.” 

“ Twenty miles.” 

“Twenty? Then you have just as far to go to- 
morrow. I’ll give you some whiskey when you go up- 
stairs to rub your feet with. That will keep them 
from getting sore.” 

Frank did not neglect to eat a substantial supper, 
although he was extremely impatient to proceed to 
his task. When he found himself at privacy, a long 
while was consumed in the assiduous deciphering of 
the letter. The work once complete, the cipher 
yielded the following import, the profanity and 
coarse epithets being left out : 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


191 


Glades, Aug-. 18, 1848. 

Levi: I am going over to Fayette to the Hole-in- 
the-Wall and I want you to be at the Humbert next 
Thursday night so we can fix up to go out to Harri- 
son to buy cattle. We will take Ezra Sheres along 
so we can pay the dunces a part in soft fish. That 
snipe that brought the baboon to Winn’s mill raised 
a howl when he got back to Uniontown, but the way 
I fixed it up his yawp could not hurt anything. The 
fool run three nigs over the line for me before now 
and done his work a heap cheaper than he thought 
for. We can find some other greeny to run back the 
next ape we can catch. 

Ezra done his job well. He got round that boy 
Sagg and had him hook a lot of coin from the men 
and stuff part of it at the right time into Frank Col- 
bert’s pocket. Old Biggins jumped the lad and now 
his goose is cooked in both places. He won’t go to 
Brandonville academy and the government won’t have 
a chance to make an army officer out of him. Ezra 
slipped right over Cheat and told the tale where it 
would do us the most good. Walbridge told the girl 
to give him his walking papers right straight and 
now he will have to stay with his dad and grow up 
an honest man. 

The lad didn’t think I got very soundly converted 
at the camp meeting in the glades, but I pulled the 
wool over everybody else except that confounded girl. 
She can look through a millstone. I can make a fat 
haul out of Tom’s farm if the girl don’t keep on acting 
the fool. Be sure and bring along that package of 


192 


LAND OF THF LAURFL 


hard fish for I shall need it to take up Tom’s mort- 
gage next Thursday. Put it in the Hole-in-the-Rock, 
for you will probably get there before I do. Don’t 
take it into the house. Take the sand out of the 
hole and set back the box. You can make out as well 
as I am doing in the game we are up to. 

John Galwix. 

As word by word the villainy described in the let- 
ter became patent to Frank, he could hardly repress 
his exultation. On the morrow he would meet 
Hoover, the mysterious man whom he credited with 
almost supernatural discernment. Galwix would be 
brought to book, and his hold on the Walbridge f am- 
ity would be broken. 

Sleep did not close the young man’s eyelid’s very 
early, but he was already awake when aroused at 
dawn to eat a hast} 7- breakfast. 




XVIII 

MOONLIGHT ON THE PIKE. 

We hear no more the clanging hoof, 

And the stagecoach rattling by; 

For the steam king rules the troubled world, 

And the old Pike’s left to die. 

— Anon. 

When Frank reached the foot of the two-mile de- 
scent to the Fairfax ferry, the sun had scarcely yet 
begun to glint the strong flowing waters of the 
mountain-girdled Cheat. Taking but a cursory view 
of the large tavern of General Fairfax, on the eastern 
shore, he resumed his walk as soon as he could pay 
the ferryman and jump out of the boat. 

He had proceeded but a little way when he fell in with 
a mounted man coming into the road by a side path. 
He led a large horse whose packsaddle was quite 
concealed by its load. 

“ Hullo** young man, are you traveling or are you 
just going somewhere?” 

“Going to West Union.” 

“That so?” again queried the stranger. “You 
got a long piece before you. I’m going that way my- 
self. Get on my horse here and ride up as far as the 
Rag Tavern. I don’t care to walk that distance for 
a little change. When I was a boy like you I have 
walked clear over into the Shenandoah valley, to 
work through harvest. Pelton is my name; what 
might yours be ? ” 

The man had already slipped down from his seat, 


194 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


and Prank took his place. After the stranger’s curi- 
osity had been appeased, he grew reminiscent. 

“So you never been in our country before,” he re- 
marked. “Well, it’s a pretty old settlement, down 
here on the river. This fine big scope of bottom 
land is what drawed ’em. The first man that come in to 
stay was Robert Butler. He came seventy-five years 
ago. But nigh onto twenty years before that, three 
Dunkards named Eckerly come out and camped on 
Dunkard creek, over on yon side the Mongerhale. 
That’s how the creek got its name. They looked 
round and found this bottom, and it suited them so 
well they built a cabin and put out some corn, and 
lived here two or three years. Then they run out of 
salt and amunition, and one of them went over to 
the settlements with some furs to get a new supply 
with. But when he come back he found the redskins 
had killed and sculped the other two and burnt the 
cabin. So he didn’t want to live here any more. 
That’s why they call this the Dunkard bottom.” 

“I don’t think much of them for getting so far 
away from the settlements,” observed Frank. 

“It did look foolish. The Injuns didn’t live in 
this country, but they hunted through here and had 
a warpath that crossed nigh where the ferry is. 
Them Eckerlys was unlucky enough to settle nigh 
the trail. But it’s been sixty years, just, sence any- 
body 1 was killed by savages in this country. Then a 
party of seven come from the Ohio river to kill Wil- 
liam Morgan, becaze he killed two redskins over by 
Morgantown, skun ’em, tanned their hides, and made 


LAND OP THP LAURPL. 


195 


’em into shot pouches and saddle seats. But instead 
of coming - down Morgan’s Run, the savages kept 
down Green’s Run and killed a Lewis and a Green. 
No war party ever come in here again. But eleven or 
twelye years ago a man was killed by a nigger boy 
over in the Green Glades. His master had bought a 
wagonload of niggers in Baltimore and was taking 
them across the country to Parkersburg, and then 
down to Mississippi. .There was a wench among ’em 
called Hetty and she was powerful cut up that her man 
wan’t along. Her new master had tried to buy ’im. 
During the night they camped in the Green Glades 
the wench got the man’s pistol and induced a dumb- 
headed nigger boy to shoot the man while he slept. 
He had to hang for it. Didn’t have no more sense 
than a block o’ wood. The wench was cleared. They 
made out her head was turned on account o’ grief. 
The boy was the only person ever been hung in this 
county. Ever hear how a sheriff had a prisoner get 
away from him in the Cheat River ? ” 

“No.” 

“It was up above the Northwestern bridge, where 
the river ain’t got so many riffles as there is down 
this way. The sheriff was taking the man in a boat 
down to the bridge and they had come to a tree that 
bent over the water low-like and had a big vine full 
o’ ripe fox grapes. The sheriff wanted a feed, and run 
his boat under and kept reaching up and up, till his 
feet was clear o’ the boat. Then the fellow shot the 
boat out from under him and made off to yon side 
the river. The sheriff said he couldn’t swim and he 


196 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


just begged and coaxed and promised good things, 
but the fellow said he was well enough satisfied the 
way things was. When the sheriff couldn’t hang on 
any longer he let go, and only went in up to his 
knees.” 

A boy was seen driving a flock of wild pigeons 
from a buckwheat field. 

“Them pigeons is a powerful pest,” grumbled the 
man on foot. “ There is such swarms of them that 
they take a heap of our buckwheat. They have a 
roost ever on Backbone mountain, fourteen miles yon 
side o’ West Union. They can be gathered up there 
by the wagonload.” 

The farmer did not dream that twenty-five years 
later the myriads of wild pigeons would suddenly and 
mysteriously disappear. 

“I can remember back when we mighty nigh lived 
right in with the wild animals,” resumed Pelton. “ I 
haven’t saw a wolf or heard tell of one for five j^ears. 
Panthers is all gone, but there’s wildcats and cata- 
mounts, and some bears and porcupines. The beavers 
is all gone I reckon. The early settlers could skerceby 
keep pigs on account o’ bears. One man tried to 
save his by keeping them in the corner by the chim- 
b\y, but the bears got at them and killed them, but 
he fixed the bears and had them to eat and the pigs 
too. Over by West Union a woman killed a bear 
that come for a pig when she was milking. She 
grabbed an axe and fixed Mr. Bear. A bear will kill 
a big dog, but can’t stand it to have a small one snap 
at him from behind. Well, here we are up to the 


IyAND OF THE FAURFE 


197 


Rag Tavern, on the top of Briery. Keep on a piece 
furder. I’ll walk a little more yet.” 

“Why do they give the place that sort of name?” 
asked Frank. 

“ Sometime ago some wagoners on this pike washed 
their clothes here and dried ’em. The clothes was 
powerful ragged and ornery, and when they come to 
Kingwood and was asked where they put up at, they 
said it was the rag tavern. So the name has stuck to 
it ever sence. There’s going to be a power o’ chest- 
nuts this fall. Think I’ll pack some over to the pike. 
They’ll bring a dollar a bushel, same as wheat does, 
and there’s less work in it. Got any of these chaff- 
piler thrashing machines down in your end of the 
county ? ” 

“Yes; there was one come in last year, and one the 
year before. They have all the work they can do all 
winter.” 

“Well,” remarked Pel ton, “I reckon it’s a heap 
better than pounding the grain out with a flail, or by 
running the horses over it on a barn floor. Them 
two is the only ways I ever knowed.’’ 

“I’ll give you the horse now,” said Frank, halting 
and drawing his foot out of the stirrup. 

“Well, jus’ you like,” replied the man. “You 
don’t have no more mountain to climb. Very good 
grade from here. Nothing much but woods for the 
next ten miles. There’s thousands of acres on this 
side the mountain where there ain’t a stick o’ timber 
missing.” 

The morning was not yet well advanced, and Frank 


198 


I,AND OF THK LAURFL 


soon fell behind the horse. He resolved to husband 
his strength and the decision was wise, as the sequel 
will show. It was not until after the sun had passed 
the meridian that a comparatively obscure road brought 
him directly upon the Northwestern Pike, a once 
famous highway of Virginia. It had now been in 
operation ten years, and a volume of business passed 
over it which would fill with amazement the gener- 
ation to whom the palmy era of the road is but a 
matter of heresay. The road was perhaps the great- 
est state-constructed thoroughfare in America. 

At the intersection of the highways there stood a 
large, well-built log tavern, antedating by" nearly 
forty years the completion of the pike. In the rear 
were very commodious stables. At the roadside 
appeared a large sign swinging in an upright frame 
from the top of a tall post. On the board was depict- 
ed a farm scene, the rising sun peering from behind 
a hilly background. Above was the legend, “Rising 
Sun Hotel.’’ Below was the proprietorial announce- 
ment, “By David Stample.” The landlord appeared 
at his door while Frank was crossing the } r ard. 

“Want dinner ?” he inquired. “It is not too late.” 

“No, I got my dinner about two miles back. When 
does the stage get here, going west?” 

“ Not before three o’clock.” 

“Then I’ll go out under a tree and rest wdiile I 
wait for it.” 

“All right, young man.”* 

Frank thereupon moved to the shade of a fine oak, 
where he drew off his shoes and took an easy position 


LAND OF THL LAURLL 


199 


on the grass. It had never been his privilege to see 
the National Road, the greatest thoroughfare in 
America, and he supposed the Northwestern Pike, of 
which he had heard much less, was incomparably 
inferior. He became a surprised as well as interested 
observer of the ceaseless tide of travel on the broad 
highway. 

It was smooth and solid, though unmacadamized. 
Now and then a man was going along on foot, always 
with a bundle, which was sometimes carried on a 
stick passed over the shoulder. A man on horseback 
was a more frequent occurrence. Quite numerously, 
dotted over the straight road, which lay in full view 
to a considerable distance in either direction, were 
the immense Conestoga freight wagons, each drawn 
at a slow, steady gait by six large, powerful horses. 
The immense vehicle, now as extinct as the galley 
of the northmen, was eighteen feet long and strongly 
made. The capacious bed, not horizontal but curving 
downward in the center, and painted a vivid blue, 
was so deep that scarcely even the head of a man 
standing within could be seen above the bright red 
sideboard. Overhead was the white canvas cover, 
drawn taut and inclining forward and rearward to 
the same considerable angle as the ends of the wagon 
bed. Below were the heavy, broad-tired wheels, 
those in the rear being twice as high as those in 
front. Riding on the off-horse of the span nearest 
the vehicle was the teamster, or, as he was then 
termed, the wagoner. But when managing the brake 
he took position on a board at the side of the bed. 


200 


LAND OF THK LAUREL 


Within was a load of merchandise, sometimes of five 
or six tons in weight. 

Moving among the slow Conestogas were smaller 
vehicles of varying size and appearance. It was too 
early in the season for the greatest movement of live- 
stock, yet this element of traffic was also conspicuous. 
At not very long intervals would appear a small drove 
of horses or a herd of weary, patient, dust-covered 
cattle. These often had to open for the passage of a 
wagon, the annoyed animals crowding upon and jost- 
ling each other. Then would follow a compact drove 
of white swine, filling the road track from side to 
side. The hogs opened more slowly for the lumber- 
ing vehicles to pass, and the wagoners had to check 
the pace of their teams lest legbones be broken by an 
unlucky stumble upon the mass of animated pork. 

The scene was not a silent one. There was the 
creaking of the freight wagon, the whirring of the 
rapid carriage, and the subdued sound of the moving 
drove, increasing in intensity as an opening was 
formed. Above these minor notes was the loud and 
not unmusical tinkling of the bell swinging from an 
arch above the hames of each freight-wagon harness, 
except that of the saddle horse. By a rule of the 
road such bells conld not be used with the smaller 
wagons. The groups of livestock, always moving 
toward the east, were followed by the shouts of their 
drivers, while the rollicking song of a wagoner would 
perhaps change to an explosion of energetic profanity 
as he encountered that trial of his calling, a “pig- 
pelter,” with his drove of swine. 


land of thf laurfl. 


201 


The wideawake young- man lying on the grass saw 
more than was outwardly visible in the busy scene on 
the roadway. The great thoroughfare, seeming to 
stretch east and west without limit, was like a vista 
reaching far into that great outer world which he 
believed to have a call for him. Some day he would 
travel this road. He would visit cities and work- 
shops, and behold steamboats and railroad trains. 
And some day he would acquire the power to make 
his services of value be} r ond this little circle in which 
he had lived and moved. He loved his native hills, 
yet they were to him as the cocoon which shelters 
the chrysalis until the hour of its maturity. The 
perfect insect, taking flight with brilliant wings, has 
far more freedom than the pupa which crawls slowly 
from leaf to leaf. 

It did not seem long to the observant youth until 
he heard the blast of a horn blown by a stage driver. 
The bright painted vehicle came thundering along 
at a much swifter rate than the huge Conestogas, 
and the stop was only long enough to let off a pas- 
senger with his baggage. The new arrival was 
Hoover, but the mysterious man was now dressed 
carefully yet plainly. His improved garb and more 
natural bearing gave him additional importance in 
the view of the young man, even though the enthu- 
siasm of youth had led Frank to impute to Hoover 
the possession of phenomenal sagacity. 

The solitary guest was following the landlord when 
he heard his name spoken in salutation. The look 

13 


202 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


in Hoover’s eyes was more cordial than his outward 
demeanor. 

“I’ll talk with you in a minute,” he replied. 
“ Major Stemple, I’ll have my bundle set inside, if 
you please. I’ll be im-after awhile, and this young 
.man too, I think.” 

Hoover walked to the tree where Frank had been 
sitting, and assumed an easy posture on the ground. 

“Now, Frank, I am at your service.” 

The junior person at once_ began a recital of all he 
had observed about Galwix and his allies since he had 
last seen Hoover. His account was not altogether con- 
cise nor methodically arranged, yet nothing he said 
was irrelevant. Hoover listened in the same impas- 
sive way as of old, interposing only an occasional 
question. He read and compared the letter and the 
copy with as little seeming concern as though they 
were invitations to dinner. Folding them up, he re- 
flected a few moments in silence, and then laid his 
hand on his companion’s shoulder and looked ear- 
nestly into his face. 

“Frank,” he said in his impressive manner, “you 
have been doing a good work, and it shall not go 
for nothing. I do not hesitate now to tell you that I 
am a United States officer, making secret investiga- 
tions. I have been running a number of counterfeiters 
and other vermin to earth. Galwix was under suspi- 
cion, but as he"generally works through others, there 
was not a clear case at the time I went away in June. 
He is a shrewd, adroit, experienced man. He can 
make nineteen persons out of twenty believe the moon 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


203 


is made of green cheese. His trail has been found in 
quite a territory. He is a counterfeiter, thief, gambler 
and swindler. He is a vampire who lives upon honest 
people, and upon rogues not so sharp as he is. His 
private character will not bear a moment’s examina- 
tion. Now, Frank, I see you have picked up the 
missing links in the chain of evidence. There are 
seven or eight others of the gang to capture, and I 
know now who they are. He was wonderfully candid 
in this letter. It is rare good fortune that the girl 
secured it in so skillful a way.” 

“Did you get my letter?” asked Frank. 

“No, I never heard from you.” 

“Do you suppose he got it?” 

“No, the indications do not point that way. It 
simply went astray. Now as for that girl, Frank, 
she is no ordinary one. I have seen her. It is too 
bad she has been so annoyed by him. It is his 
scheme to control that mortgage. The man who 
holds it is a miser and he is destitute of good princi- 
ples. He is one that Galwix can wrap around his 
own finger. It is the game of that man Galwix to 
get the farm into his own grasp, and then to force a 
sale and get good money on it. He has no affection 
for that girl. Bless } r ou, no. His attentions are 
partly out of malice toward you. He knows you sus- 
pect him, but he also knows you did not think you 
could expose him fully. Then he wanted you away, 
so you would not be spying on him. I have an errand 
here, but we will get a conveyance and start early in 
the morning so as to trap him.” 


204 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


“How I would like to see him caught !” declared 
Frank, with vehemence. “But why didn’t he get 
tripped up on that runaway slave business ? ” 

“ That’s easily explained,” replied Hoover. “The 
man with the slave did not scrutinize the bills. He 
scarcely more than saw the money in a roll. Who 
was to say the counterfeit bills were not given by the 
slave dealer ? Galwix had good money in his pocket 
so as to be ready for any emergency. Well, Frank, 
now lay this matter off your mind for the present. 
Fat a good supper and then we will listen to stories from 
the wagoners, who will stay here tonight. There is a 
full moon and they will be out on the porch.” 

At nightfall there was quite an array of vehicles 
within the tavern yard. The stables were filled 
nearly to their capacity with horses. In an adjacent 
field was a herd of cattle, and in a small inclosure 
was a drove of swine. The substantial supper had 
been dispatched and the guests, nearly all of whom 
were wagoners, were gathering on the porch. 

“These men are hardy, honest and jovial,” re- 
marked Hoover to his young companion. “They are 
kind to one another. Their home is on the road. 
They carry their own beds and a bucket is as good as 
a chair to sit on. They carry a jug in the handy 
box at the side of the wagon, but then they are sel- 
dom intemperate, and their morals are better than in 
the case of the stagers. They are just a bit clannish 
and there is some jealousy between them and the 
back country people. That is still more the case on 
the National Road, where the wagoners are called 


LAND OF THF LATJRFL. 


205 


‘Pike Boys.’ They like sport, songs and hoedowns.” 

Just then a stout, red-faced wagoner came out on 
the porch, singing a song : 

“ Now all ye jolly wagoners, who have got you wives, 

Go home to your farms and there spend your lives; 

And when your corn is all cribbed and your small grain is good, 
You’ll have nothing to do but curse the railroad.” 

“That’s just what we’ll have to do, Hebner,” ex- 
claimed another knight of the road. ‘ ‘ The confounded 
rail concern is coming this way from Cumberland, and 
when it gets through to the Ohio our business will be 
all gone. Then the taverns will have to close and 
the farmers won’t see no such good times as they do 
now. They have as good a market as they could 
wish. The railroad will ruin all this country. Why, 
if it kept away, this pike would be metalled with 
stone, same as the National Road, and there’d be a 
tavern every mile. Business on the road gets bigger 
every year.” 

“Now you’re talking, Mcllree,” said Hebner. “I 
wagoned twenty-one years on the National Road, and 
I am going back on it soon. When you are wagoning 
in cold weather, what better place do you want to get 
into at night than one of those big stone taverns, with 
half a dozen bushels of coal in the fireplace, and the 
poker seven or eight feet long that the landlord keeps 
under lock and key? I don’t believe there ever was 
such a road in the whole world; sixty feet wide; eight 
carriages passing abreast; cost thirteen thousand dol- 
lars a mile between Cumberland and Wheeling. There’s 
a road that is a road. Why, it holds the Hast and 


206 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


West tog-ether. It is a bond of union to the whole 
country. I don’t believe there ever were such stag-e 
lines as you find on that road. Where else can you 
find the spirit and dash you see in the 4 Good Intent ’ 
and ‘ June Bug ’ lines ? ” 

“That is so,” spoke up a man named Allum. 
“I’ve knowed the old ‘ Industry ’ to make sixteen miles 
an hour. The sparks fairly flew. Now when you 
can go from Cumberland to Wheeling — 131 miles, 
mind you — in twelve hours, what better time do you 
want ? ” 

“Can’t make that every day,” rejoined Mcllree. “A 
small crowd of us were at Ashkettle’s tavern, on 
Savage mountain. One of the boys got up and said 
he felt snow in his face. It had been hazy, but not 
cold. We all went out and found some of the horses 
loose. B} r morning the snow was hub deep. We 
would hitch eight horses to one wagon and drag ’em 
one by one to the top of the mountain, one mile out. 
We had to do a pile o’ shoveling. Our crowd only 
made three miles in two days.’’ 

“One time, when I was going over that mountain,” 
observed Hebner, “ a man ahead o’ me busted a barrel 
o’ Venetian red, and it painted the snow for miles. 
Another time — it was summer, though — a barrel of 
coffee sprung a leak in Grantsville, and the people 
run out and scooped it up just too quick for any- 
thing.” 

“Did I ever tell you, Hebner, the dose we give some 
o’ them sharpshooters down at Cumberland ? ” in- 
quired Mcllree. 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


207 


“What do you mean by sharpshooters?” asked a 
youth. 

“They call ’em privates on this road,” explained 
Mcllree. “Sometimes we call ’em militia. It is 
farmers and such men that wagon on»ly a part of the 
year. They only use four horses, and no bells on 
them. They are no real wagoners. Well, as I was 
going to say, Hebner, some o’ them fellows got wor- 
ried by having to wait for goods. We regulars 
wouldn’t haul at the reduced price that was offered. 
Two of the sharps drove to the warehouse to load at 
the reduction. So one of the boys by the name of 
Judson got him a pine sword and led a crowd of us 
there. We had horns, tin buckets and oyster cans, 
and we pelted and guyed the sharps like fun. The 
police shut down on us, and then the sharps loaded 
and drove out sixteen miles. In the morning, some- 
bod)^ — I don’t say who it was — cut their gears and 
sawed their axles off. A regular that had no load 
took their contract and made them promise to keep 
off the pike.” 

“Good enough,” commented Hebner. “Well, Mac, 
there have been scary times on the old pike. It was 
fourteen years ago, a little earlier than this, that 
Sam Loman had a mail stage going east between 
Piney Grove and Frostburg. There was a few pas- 
sengers in the monkey box. He was going through 
them thick pines — it was dark you see — when five 
foot-pads come out on him, One was a woman. 
They had put an obstruction in the road and Homan 
had no gun. They told him they was traders. One 


208 


LAND OF THF LAUREL 


of them told his pal to shoot, but the air was damp 
and the priming wouldn’t catch. The lead horses 
had got turned about, but Loman saw his chance and 
swung them to and sent ’em over the obstruction fly- 
ing. The stag£ nearly upset. His passengers was 
merchants going east, with sixty thousand dollars to 
buy goods. He told them the pads was coming out, 
but them fellows in the stage was all a pack of cow- 
ards. One had a brass pistol but it might as well 
have been a popgun. When the merchants got on to 
Frostburg they took up a collection, but it was so 
trifling small, Loman wouldn’t have it.” 

“Mean set,” echoed the listeners. 

“Makes me think of that stingy old Sidebottom,” 
remarked Mcllree. “Jenny Lind put up at his tavern, 
and she broke a dish. The landlord charged her for 
the whole set and she paid it. Then she took a 
hatchet and smashed every last dish. Sidebottom 
tried to raise a kick on it, but she told him it was her 
property now, and she could do with it what she 
pleased.” 

“He didn’t have good horse sense,” declared Allum. 

“Quite a funny prank last time I was here,” said 
another wagoner. “Two young fellows blacked their 
faces and shot across the pike between here and West 
Union, going north. Three or four men see them 
and give chase and the boys let theirselves get catched. 
The joky part was that one of the men always let on 
he was powerful opposed to slavery.” 

“And just as ready to pick up a reward as anybody 
else,” sneered Mcllree. “That’s like the Massachu- 


NORTHWESTERN BRIDGE. Cheat River. Phot’d by C. S. Rexroad 



































































LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


209 


setts people; sold their niggers down South, and now 
they turn round and cuss the Southern people for 
holding slaves.” 

“Now, Frank,” said Hoover, “ we better get some 
rest. We start early.” 

But the wagoners made a simultaneous movement 
toward the pallets thej^ carried in their vehicles. 
These were brought into the public room and 
deposited on the floor. The wagoners lay down with 
their feet toward the fireplace. 

“You could walk around these men and not wake 
them,” remarked Hoover. “But let a dog bark or a 
suspicious sound come from the stables, and they are 
up in a second.” 



XIX 


A RACK IN THE DARK 

There is not a fiercer hell than failure in a great object. — Keats. 

At sunrise next morning- the hotel yard was a 
scene of activity. Breakfast had been eaten, and the 
inevitable pint bottle had been passed around. The 
horses were alread} r fed and curried. The g-ears, as 
a harness was then called, were heavy and strong, 
some of the strips of leather being ten to fifteen inches 
wide. It took a strong man to throw a harness upon 
the back of one of the large, superb freight horses. 

“Git-up.” 

The driver flourished his whip, five feet long, thick 
and hard at the butt, and with a silken cracker at 
the tip. The horses leaned in their collars. The 
huge vehicle creaked, and as it got under way the 
upper edge of the cover nearly touched the wagoner 
in his saddle. 

“ Hoo-kee-ee,” came the loud, clear voice of the 
drover as he brought his lead ox out of the field, fol- 
lowed by a hundred large, sleek cattle. 

“Suboy, suboy,” floated in a shriller kej r from the 
throat of the hog driver. “Suboy, suboy; get along 
there. Fifty cents a day, and no dinner.” 

The light wagon containing Hoover and Frank and 
their driver made an equally early start. 

“ Our landlord sometimes takes in a hundred dol- 
lars in a day,” observed the officer. “ Nearly. every 
house on the road is a tavern, too. But in a few 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


211 


more 3 r ears that tavern stand will be a solitude, and 
this hig-hwa) r will become a mere country road. The 
railway will work an entire change in the transporta- 
tion business.” 

For a short half hour the carriage rolled over the 
tableland tying toward the Cheat. Then, leaving 
the fields and pastures behind, it began the long, 
winding and uniform descent toward the river. At 
the left the wooded hillside rose higher and higher. 
At the right, lower down, even, than the tops of the 
trees in the ravine, were the shimmering waters of a 
mountain torrent. Finally the road fell to the level 
of the creek and emerging upon the meager valley of 
the main stream, it crossed the river on a strong 
wooden bridge. 

Here in front of a house was a Conestoga, deliver- 
ing a barrel of flour to the inmates, and at the water’s 
edge lay a boat laden with old corn. 

“That corn,” explained Hoover, “is for our land- 
lord. It is brought down from the bottoms higher 
up the Cheat, where the crop does better than on the 
cool upland behind us. The flour comes from the Ohio 
river. The Conestogas do not have much return 
cargo and they sell flour as they go along to people 
who depend on them for supplies. You see they can 
just as well bring it as not. It helps to pay tolls. 
Here at this bridge the tolls are from a hundred to a 
hundred and fifty dollars a month. We follow the 
river a little longer and then the pike winds up a big 
mountain. It is the last ridge toward the Ohio. In 
winter these Conestogas have to adjust their ice-cut- 


212 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


ters when the hillsides are slippery. During- the sea- 
son of good roads, g-ang-s of men are kept busy all the 
time in preserving a smooth driveway.” 

Beyond the mountain is the village of Fellowsville, 
where the travelers had but a little while to wait 
before taking the stage for Kingwood. During the 
approach to the county seat it was very plain to 
Hoover that Frank was ill at case. 

“Mr. Hoover,” said the j^oung man, as soon as he 
found an opportunity to speak, “I want to go right 
out to the glades. I feel as though something is not 
just right.” 

“Feel a foreboding?” queried Hoover, with one of 
his slight smiles. 

“ I believe I do. Now, did you notice a line was 
drawn under the word Thursday in the letter? That 
means something.” 

“Undoubtedly,” responded the officer. “I took it 
to mean Thursday a week, but then we cannot be 
sure.” 

“It may mean the day before. They may be get- 
ting back ahead of time.” 

“ I understand your case,” said Hoover. “I once 
was younger than I am now, and impatient besides. 
In what shape are you? It is some distance out there, 
and we could not make it before nightfall.” 

“O, I am pretty fresh now,” said the youth assur- 
ingly. “I can stand a lot of walking. But I want to 
go by way of Walbridge’s. It is no farther than it is 
to the Humbert cabin, and — I can get to say just a 
word to — .” 


Iy AND OF THE EAURFL. 


213 


Your girl,” returned Hoover, completing the sen- 
tence. “Yes, we will give the matter the benefit of 
your doubt. I am not much for delay myself, and I 
will go with you. Got any pistol ? ” 

“Yes, a two-barreled one;” 

“I have a very important errand to sefe to first,” 
pursued the officer. “It will not take ten minutes. 
Then we will start at once.” 

Frank was now able to hold a very direct course to 
the Walbridge farm, and the speed he made through 
devious wood paths, across briery fields, and over 
tangled ravines, did not indicate that he was sensible 
of lingering fatigue. There was little conversation 
between the two men until they were near the farm- 
house. 

“Frank,” said Hoover, “ I see you are more brisk 
with your feet than I am. Now let me go to the 
house first. Wait for me at this tree. Keep out of 
sight. Be patient. I’ll not be gone long. Give me 
the trinket and chain.” 

Hoover was not absent more than a quarter of an 
hour, but Frank was so perturbed that the minutes 
seemed to fly with leaden wings. When the man reap- 
peared there was a tale of bad news, even on nis self- 
controlled features. He spoke hurriedly, and each brief 
sentence was full of meaning. 

“There is work for you, Frank. Galwix has just 
left. He’ll go to the cabin, then to Kingwood. Mort- 
gage. You know what that means. He had just come. 
Did not see us. Beat him to the cabin. Get the box 


214 


LAND OF THE LAUREL 


and hurry to town by the road. I’ll meet 3 7 ou. Do 
your best. Now go.” 

It was not necessary to add the last command, for 
Frank was already flying down a declivity. His per - 
ceptions were quickened by the presentiment which 
had been prejdng upon him. The intense words of 
the officer had almost literally burned their way into 
his mind. 

Other thoughts were likewise flashing upon him. 
Galwix had returned earlier than on the date he gave 
to Almeda. He may have forced her to tell him what 
she had done with the counterfeit coin. He was now 
on his way to Kingwood to get control of the mort- 
gage at all hazards. He must needs go by the cabin, 
for he was too shrewd a man to risk much money on 
his person. A thief may rob a thief as well as any 
one else. 

Frank now comprehended the underscoring of the 
date in the letter. It was to urge Levi Gatt to make 
haste. The interest on the mortgage was due on the 
next day. It was the purpose of Galwix to meet the 
unscrupulous mortgagee under cover of darkness. May 
he not have induced the money-lender to press for the 
full payment of the obligation? 

Frank knew that he was himself swifter of foot than 
Hoover, and that for this reason he had been assigned 
the task of forestalling Galwix in his visit to the Hole- 
in-the-Rock. But what could he do if he antici- 
pated Hoover in the return to Kingwood? He would 
borrow no trouble on that score. He believed that the 
officer had provided for the contingency. Then what if 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. % 215 

Galwix should be the first to reach the boulder? 
First? That event must not happen. Nay, more, it 
should not. 

On coming- to the road, which was little more than 
a broad horsepath, Frank saw Galwix walking swiftly 
dowm the hig-hway. He followed at an equal pace, 
yet with great care, so that the villain might not 
become cognizant of his pursuer. In less than half a 
mile the road forked. As Frank was expecting-, Gal- 
wix took the left hand path. Without an instant’s 
hesitation he himself chose the other fork, but in a 
little while he left it and pursued nearly a bee line 
toward the Humbert cabin. This way was more direct 
and by summoning- all the speed of which he was 
capable, he hoped to anticipate the arrival of the 
counterfeiter. 

Once fully released from the need of g-overning- his 
pursuit by the pace set by his rival, the young- man’s 
feet are nearly keeping- step with the thoughts speed- 
ing- throug-h his mind. 

But the way is roug-h. In a deep hollow is a stream 
to cross. Beyond is a broad, high hill to pass over. 
Nearly the whole distance lies in the forest, and not 
always does the leafy carpet afford a firm foothold. 
Briers trip his feet and make him fall. Holes and 
half concealed rocks cause him to stumble. Every 
larg-e prostrate tree works a delay. Through the 
laurel in the hollow he has to press his way by main 
force. The still air of twilight opens his pores and 
bathes him in perspiration. But never mind. He is 
determined to reach the goal first, and he holds his 


216 


* LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


direction with almost the instinct of the carrier pigeon. 

What is the supreme motive which is lending wings 
to his footsteps ? Is it the financial ruin hovering 
over the Walbridge home? Frank would go to a 
great length to ward off this danger, for he knows 
the parent is blind to the true nature of the serpent 
that has entered his Eden. 

Frank sees all this and he feels its force. But he is 
looking bej^ond. It is the vision of Almeda which is 
spurring him to such a frenzy of endeavor. The 
greater object includes the lesser. If he succeeds in 
his race, he will again be welcome at the Walbridge 
house, Almeda will be his, and her home will not be 
wrested away. His victor will crush his rival, but 
the turning point has not yet come. The scales are 
quivering between success and failure. In Frank’s 
pocket is the proof of the counterfeiter’s guile. 
That letter is precious to him. Come what may, it 
shall never pass back to the villain who wrote it ! 
Never ! 

Darkness is fast gathering as Frank comes within 
sight of the giant boulder. He throws a quick glance 
toward the cabin. The door is a little ajar, and not 
only can he see a gleam of light but he can hear low 
voices. Galwix is already there ! 

But how could the counterfeiter outrun the boy ? 
Had Frank’s care in the pursuit been in vain? Had he 
been seen by the crafty Galwix, and had he been out- 
generaled by him? Had not Galwix turned his walk 
into a run after passing the forks in the road ? He 


I, AND OF THE DAURED 217 

had farther to go, but then he had the advantage of 
an open path. 

Yet surely he could not travel so fast as to antici- 
pate his rival more than a moment. He is striking a 
light with which to visit the Hole-in-the-Rock. It is 
still possible to be there first, but there is not an in- 
stant to lose ! 

Voices had been heard — Gatt is also in the cabin ! 
Frank is within pistol-shot of two desperate foes. 
Yes, but the cabin wall is between him and them, and 
he is screened by the deepening gloom. 

Just before coming to the boulder he heard the dog 
•bounding toward him. Why does not the animal 
bark? This is indeed providential, and it is also 
providential that the door is now shut. Frank knows 
that the brute is large and strong. His hand seeks 
his pistol, yet to fire will be a most serious mistake. 
He has a very heavy walking stick to help his pro- 
gress through the ravines, and as the beast draws 
near, a swinging blow, wielded with all the force at 
his command, causes the butt to descend with para- 
lyzing effect upon the spine of the animal. It is the 
work of but another moment to clutch the dog by the 
throat, and suppress a howl, and with the other hand 
on the hilt of his knife he drives home a blow to the 
vitals. 

But precious time is speeding away. The cabin 
door is opening ! 

Frank dashes into the cranny, and reckless of the 
very possible presence of venomous snakes, he plunges 
his hand into the loose soil. He feels the edge of the 


218 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


board, raises it, and flings it aside. A box is there 
and it is now in his Own grasp ! 

Without the delay of a moment, Frank creeps 
softly away in the darkness. If he does not betray 
his presence he may now slacken his pace. But when 
Galwix discovers his loss, may he not flee across the 
river to his other fastness in Pennsylvania ? No, for 
Hoover has without question provided against such a 
possibility. Frank can entertain no other supposition. 

The young man cannot exercise too great care, for 
he can hear the counterfeiters moving toward the 
rock. 

“ Thought I heard the dog run out at something,” 
said the voice of Levi Gatt. 

“Never mind,” replied Galwix, “ let’s go on to the 
hole.” 

Frank passes bej^ond sound of the low voices, but a 
moment later he hears a cry of surprise and rage. 
A single cry ? No, there are two in quick succession, 
and the second is fiercer than the first ! 

“Now is my time, while their attention is taken 
up,’’ thought the young man. 

Yes, Frank, improve well your time, for these men 
are very near, and only the shadows of the wood 
are merciful to you. 

But in a dense shade his foot comes upon a dry 
limb causing it to break with a sharp report. An- 
other crash follows before he can extricate himself 
from the obstacle. Unlucky steps are these ! 

“ Quick ! Up this way ! ” is the hurried command 
of Galwix. 


L.AND OF THF FAUFFF. 


219 


There is no time now for Frank to choose his steps. 
Yet he soon emerges into a path leading in the direc- 
tion he wishes to go. He is now mounting a hilltop, 
but he will soon come to a highway, and then his 
course will be quite uniformly downhill for a long dis- 
tance. Yet it is a relief even now to follow an open 
track. 

Yes, young man, but you are now pursued. You 
were pursued once before, but only by one thief, and 
he might have done you no bodily harm. Two infu- 
riated men are now upon your trail, and if you are 
overtaken you are in peril of your very life ! They 
are doubtless fresher than yourself, for you have been 
walking and running nearly four hours. You are 
even now fatigued, although you do not know it. 

The box is heavy. But what if it is ? That box 
shall be carried at any cost. Once he stumbles and 
falls; yes, twice, and the second time he bruises him- 
self. But he hurriedly regains his feet and resumes 
his flight. 

Duing all this time are heard the footfalls of his 
pursuers, now falling behind and now gaining upon 
him. They are determined to overtake the fugitive, 
for they have much at stake. If the chase continue 
to the very precincts of Kingwood he may even there 
be overtaken; for on the threshold of safety he will 
relax his efforts. 

At any moment he can turn aside into the woods. 
Yes, but by doing so he may imperil the capture of the 
counterfeiters; and, beside, he can be brought to bay 
in the woods as well as in the road. Even by lying 


220 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


still his safety would not be assured, for the moon 
will soon be up, and his relentless pursuers could then 
bide their time. There is already a brightness beyond 
the crest of the distant river hill. 

If brought to a stand he might disable his enemies, 
but they could guard against his movements and they 
have doubtless more shots than he. Yet this final 
resource is no longer at his command, for he discov- 
ers that his pistol has dropped out of his pocket dur- 
ing one of his falls ! 

For a few moments he hears a horse galloping in 
his front, but the rider is going in the same direction 
as himself, and may be a foe rather than a friend. 
Two lights appear, but Frank has sought shelter on 
a prior occasion, and he will not risk another trial. 
A dog runs into the road and chases the pursuers, 
but is stilled with a pistol shot. 

The road now follows a straight course down a 
steadily descending hollow. The forest is unbroken 
and the rising moon will not soon penetrate the sul- 
len shade. The cry of a catamount is heard, but 
Frank little heeds the sound. His relentless pur- 
suers are far more dangerous foes than the tiger of 
the mountain. Why do they not risk a chance shot ? 
Ah ! it is well for you, young man, that the revolver 
and the metallic cartridge are not yet in use ! 

Frank’s energies have begun to flag. He is pant- 
ing. The town is still far away, but the ominous 
footfalls in his rear can still be heard. And but for 
a minute of time this stern race from the Hole-in-the- 


LAND OF THK LAURFL 221 

Rock need not have happened ! Minutes are some- 
times very precious ! 

It is two miles to the end of the ravine. The path 
is there crossed by a rocky, brawling- stream with 
high banks. There is a footlog over the torrent. 
He remembers that footlog, and he knows of its pre- 
sent condition. He resolves that his pursuers shall 
also have cause to remember the spot. 

The footlog is reached. There is a quick examina- 
tion of the farther support. A rock is wrenched out 
and laid on the ground. He steps behind a covert 
and holds his club in readiness for use. 

A crash is heard. There is a cry of pain, and then 
a second cry, coming up from the waters gurgling 
over the rocks in the darkness below. The men have 
been hurt. The biters have been bitten. 

“Is this you, Frank ? ” 

It was the voice of Hoover. In the gathering 
brightness Frank could see other men behind the 
officer. 

“Quick,” panted Frank. “Those fellows have 
tumbled into the run. You’ll get them.” 

“Yes, we have them,” reported Hoover, a few 
moment later. “They are both disabled. Why, boy, 
you are in a washy sweat. What a run you must 
have had. I have a horse here and you must ride it 
up to town. I think one of the men will let you have 
his coat to throw round yourself. I’m a little warm, 
too, for my part.” 


222 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“Yes, take mine,” exclaimed a companion of 
Hoover. “You’ll get chilled.” 

“I ran about as far as I could,” said Frank, who 
had dropped upon a log. “But I don’t care. We’ve 
got the fellows.” 



XX 




THE COMING OF SUNSHINE 

Blest power of sunshine ! genial day, 

What balm, what life, are in thy ray ! 

— Moore. 

Hoover would have made a good physician. On the 
arrival at the village he took Prank to the Charlton 
home and had dry clothes provided.. A bowl of hot 
milk, a salt sponge bath, and a soft bed made the 
young 1 man feel like a new person. 

“What is your notion of this hot milk?’’ inquired 
Prank, as he sipped from the steaming bowl. 

“ It is a stimulant of just the sort you need. I have 
mighty little use for liquor, even as a medicine. 
When you can employ a remedy that cannot do harm, it 
is the proper thing- to use it. And now, “pursued 
the officers, as he concluded his ministrations, “why 
don’t you wilt down and grunt, and say you are clean 
played out, and not worth a bad penny ? ” 

“Because I won’t,” was the energetic response. 
“Didn’t we beat them all hollow?” 

“I think we g-ot the whip end on that contract,” 
replied Hoover, with his encouraging- smile. “Yes, 
Prank, there’s an abundance of grit in you. All you 
need just now is a good long rest, and then you’ll be 
all right. Tomorrow, you will begin to reap a crop 
of good results. You must lie around this house until 
day after tomorrow. I don’t know whether I shall 
even let you get out of that bed much before noon. 


224 


LAND OF THK LAUREL. 


You are going to have a tempting breakfast. The 
lady of the house will broil you a slice of hard leather 
and fry you some griddle cakes made out of crushed 
corncobs and buckwheat hulls.” 

Frank laughed. It was just the effect which the 
shrewd observer of human nature was seeking to 
induce. Before lying down himself, he continued to 
lead the young man away from the thoughts of the 
evening by drawing on a fund of narratives, of which 
he had a goodly store. 

On awaking at daybreak Frank was very limp, and 
to use his own expression, he felt as though he had 
been pounded with a flail from head to foot. But 
Hoover declared that he was still worth a regiment 
of dead soldiers. 

“After a severe fatigue,’’ remarked the astute de- 
tective, “a person always feels unwound. The excite- 
ment of yesterday has spent its force, and left you 
weak. Now you will build up so fast that it will sur- 
prise you.” 

“Mr. Hoover,” asked Frank, at a later hour in the 
morning, “tell me how you managed that business 
last night. I didn’t dream of your meeting me at 
the bridge. I had made up my mind to fight those 
fellows.’’ 

“You chose a good position, ” replied Hoover. “You 
ambushed your enemy and then had him at a disad- 
vantage. That was military instinct. Well, some of 
my preliminaries were arranged when I was in this 
country before. So it took only a few minutes yes- 
terday afternoon to arrange the campaign. One 


THE FAIRFAX HOUSE Phot’d by C. S. Rexroad. 









LAND OF THK LATJRKL. 


225 


party was to be at the bridge by a certain hour. 
Another party was to arrive at the counterfeiters’ den 
by a certain hour, but not to travel the latter part of 
the distance by the county road. When they did 
arrive they were so near the counterfeiters that they 
heard their yells of rage when they found the dog 
killed and the hiding place rifled. They heard the 
fellows go in pursuit of you and they followed, but 
could not overhaul them. You led those men too 
lively a chase. They came up with the other party 
at the bridge, and then the fellows were surrounded. 
Galwix broke his wrist and sprained his ankle, and 
Gatt broke his arm and had some bad bruises besides. 
There’s no run in them today. They will be sent 
away and consigned to the tender mercies of a federal 
court. But to go back in my story: I found Galwix 
in conversation with Walbridge. He had gained the 
man’s consent to assume the mortgage and the other 
debts. I overheard enough of their talk to see what 
the situation was, and when Galwix was out of 
hearing I soon drew from Walbridge the information 
I was most in need of. Then I told you, and then 
went back and got the loan of a horse from him, and 
rode on to the bridge, getting there only five minutes 
ahead of you. You must not blame Walbridge for 
being imposed on. In the long run a sharper is more 
than a match for an inexperienced countryman. As 
for the mortgagee, he is very humble now. He is 
fairy shaking in his shoes for fear of being prosecuted 
as an accomplice.” 


226 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


“Why, you’d make a good general yourself,” said 
Frank, admiringly. 

“ I don’t know as to that. I am only a captain. But 
do you know you are regarded as the hero of the ex- 
ploit of last night? It will be the topic of the week 
in this region.” 

“I don’t see why I should be the hero,” protested 
the young man. “ You deserve the credit. You had 
everything arranged. You knew just what to say to 
Walbridge, or I would have been too late to get the 
box. And then ) r ou were at the bridge just in time.” 

“But if you had not made the fellow's tumble into 
the run, we might have had a hot time to get them. 
No, my young friend, people have their own wa}^ for 
choosing their heroes, and that race against odds has 
made you one. It has insured your appointment to 
the Military Academy. Mr. Downs says his objec- 
tions are entire^ removed, and that 3 t ou shall go to 
West Point, if you wish to. It was Galwix who stood 
in 3^our wa3 r . He was able to work through persons 
who appear to stand high in the communit3 r . Monday 
evening you are expected to appear at the Fairfax 
mansion, between here and the river. You will see 
a finely furnished house, and meet ladies in Leghorn 
bonnets and alpacca dresses, and gentlemen in silk 
hats, velvet vests, blue clawhammer coats with brass 
buttons, and silk handkerchiefs around their necks.” 

“That would be worse than the foot race,” blurted 
Frank. “ I w^on’t know how to act.” 

“Use 3 T our good sense and you’ll get along,” was 
the assuring repty. 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


227 


But what did you see in me to make you go to so 
much trouble ? ” demanded the young man. “ It is a 
bigger debt, take it all over, than I can ever make 
good.” 

“Some of these days you may be able to do me a 
good turn,” replied Hoover. “But then I ask no re- 
ward beyond the recognition of doing a good act. I 
am strong in my likes and dislikes. I saw there was 
something in you. It needed a chance to be brought 
out. You have stood up for me, and you have obeyed 
orders like a soldier. But here comes a man who 
will say something to do } t ou good.” 

Thomas Walbridge was striding through the open 
door. 

“Frank,” said the farmer, offering his hand, “I 
misjudged you, but I take it all back now. Our ears 
had been filled with them reports, and they seemed 
to come so straight. I thought I was acting for Al- 
meda’s good, but I was going the wrong way all the 
while.” 

Frank took the extended hand, and in his answer- 
ing smile there was no trace of resentment. 

“I knew there was a mistake all the time, but then 
I couldn’t blame you, ” replied the} r oung man. “You 
meant well, but )T>u didn’t know what the fellow was.” 

“I had business here this morning,” resumed Wal- 
bridge, “but then I couldn’t have rested till I’d come 
into town, anyway. This gentleman had no time to 
explain much last night, but I was told everything to- 
da} r . Now things is just as different as day is from 
dark. You come out now. You’re welcome any time.” 


228 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


The next day was Sunday, and during the hour of 
evening twilight Captain Hoover was sitting with 
Frank on the porch of the Charlton house. 

“Frank,” observed the elder man, after he had been 
relating a number of his experiences, “you have read 
and heard something about the discovery of gold in 
California ? ” 

“Yes, and I have heard two men talk of going 
there in the spring.” 

“Next year,” declared Hoover, “there will be a 
rush to that far county. Just now the news is 
merely getting circulated through the old part of the 
United States. It is too late for people to get there 
this season, except by a long and costly ocean voyage. 
But as soon as another spring opens, men will be 
swarming across the now trackless Western deserts. 
Only think of a journe}^ of two thousand miles across 
an uncivilized and almost uninhabited country ! 
Gold always did set men wild. They never stop to 
count the cost. They don’t foresee the toil and hard- 
ship they will have to undergo. 

“That discovery of gold, Frank, is one of the few 
great events that take place in a thousand years. 
Now what will make it such a geat event is not the 
mere finding of the gold. That is entirely too sordid 
a basis of calculation. What we are to look at is the 
effect it will have on the thoughts and actions of peo- 
ple. After a while men will be coming back from 
there. Some will have gold and some will not, but 
all will have experience. Men who had never been 
fifty miles from their homes will have traveled thous- 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


229 


ands of miles, and seen all climates, all kinds of 
county, and all sorts and races of people. What 
these people have seen, other people will see by lis- 
tening- to them. It will broaden men and liberalize 
them. It will make them go to doing things they 
hardly dream of doing now. It will stir up our great 
country into new life. Why, practically speaking, 
our country is as big again as it was before this war 
with Mexico. Commerce and industry will be stimu- 
lated wonderfully. Ambitious young men will have 
more opportunities than they ever had before. They 
will go from their early homes and carve out fame 
and fortunes where they might never have gone, and 
to an extent they might never have accomplished, 
had it not been for the finding of gold three thousand 
miles away. That gold will be like yeast in a pan 
of dough. It will leaven the whole American people. 
An impulse has been set free which will widen and 
widen, and perhaps not spend its force for centuries. 
It will be a great age that you and I will spend the 
rest of our days in, if we live anything like the natu- 
ral span of life.” 



XXI 


A HUSKING FROLIC 

True constancy no time, no power can move ; 

He that hath known to change, ne’er knew to love. 

—Gay. 

At the time of the next full moon Frank Colbert 
crossed the Cheat to attend a husking- “frolic” on the 
Walbridge farm. The corn had been topped for fod- 
der, and in the farm} r ard was a long, crescent-shaped 
pile of ears in the husk. It was a little early for the 
neighbors to appear, but the housewife and her bevy 
of daughters were preparing for the substantial sup- 
per which would follow the husking. These busy pre- 
parations in the kitchen afforded scant opportunity 
just now for a tete-a-tete with Almeda. 

“Keep away from in here,” exclaimed Annie. “No 
men folks allowed around, if they don’t want their 
heads rapped with a rolling pin. No churning going 
on now.” 

“Can’t I look in at the door?” inquired Frank. 

“It -ain’t safe. You might get some ’lasses in your 
hair.” 

“There’s plenty of lasses in here, I know,” laughed 
the young man. 

“Yes, but it’s the other sort I mean. You don’t 
want either kind in your hair, though. One will pull 
it all out and the other gum it all up.” 

“That would save combing,” asserted Frank, 
“ but Medie will let me look on, won’t you now ? ” 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


231 


“Yes.” 

“There, Annie, what have you got to say now?” 
demanded the young man at the door. 

“Why, she aint boss of this kitchen. They all have 
to stand round when I’m in here. They hardly dare 
say their souls are their own.” 

“M-m?” hummed Virginia, as she jostled the 
elder but smaller sister. 

“ Look-a-here, Genie, don’t you go to getting gay, 
or I’ll dab you just right.” 

The younger girl replied by making a face. 

“Good thing the weather aint cold yet,” rejoined 
Annie. “Your face might freeze and always stay 
that way.” 

Leaving the girls to their by-play, Frank returned 
to the yard, where a company was rapidly assembling, 
the preponderance being in the younger element of each 
sex. It was those who contributed the most to the 
babel of merry voices. 

“ ’Bout time we get at it,” said a tall man of middle 
age, who had not forgotten that he was once as young 
as any of the party. “Who’ll be captains ? Suppose 
we have Ad Harris and Ash Curtis.” 

“Good enough,” responded a chorus. 

“Better put in Frank Colbert,” objected Curtis. 
“ Frank’s here.” 

“ Two brother-in-laws, that’s going to be,” com- 
mented another man. 

“’Deed, I didn’t think of that, Ash,” replied the 
first speaker, after there was a subsidence in the out- 
brust of cheering and laughter. 


232 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


“I don’t wish to be captain this time,” objected 
the hero, “and then I don’t know the best huskers.” 

“Medie will help him choose,” continued Curtis. 

“I’d sooner not,” insisted Frank. 

“Then you go on; you and Ad,” said the master of 
ceremonies, addressing- Curtis. “Older one choose 
first.” 

“ Sorry I can’t beg-in with brother Galwix,” beg-an 
Curtis in a derisive tone. 

A volley of catcalls greeted this announcement. 

“Put him out o’ here !” 

“Drown him!” 

“Don’t let him have any supper!” 

“Lock him in the Humbert house, and set the old 
shack on fire ! ’ ’ 

“I’ll beg-in with Frank Colbert,” resumed Curtis. 

“I’ll take Annie,” respondeded Adam Harris. 

“And I’ll take Medie,” rejoined the elder captain. 

“That’s the way to do,” exclaimed the master of 
ceremonies. “ Pair ’em off, so the young- fellows can 
have their best girls close by.” 

And so the choosing- proceeded until the company 
was divided into two equal groups. 

“Tom,” inquired Curtis, “which end has the most 
red ears ? ” 

“Nary a red ear,” rejoined Walbridg-e. “ Rawley 
Linton don’t like the girls, and he’s went over the 
field and stole every red ear.” 

“ Then we won’t come to husk for you no more. 
Well, Ad, let’s divide the pile.” 

At a point agreed upon by the captains as the mid- 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 233 

die of the crescent, a partial opening- was made and 
a long pole was placed in the gap. 

“Now you fellows,” said Harris, “don’t you go to 
letting the pole slide down your way and leave our pile 
bigger.” 

“We don’t need to,” protested Curtis. “Our com- 
pany will lick your’n all out of sight. You can’t 
husk, yourself, and you hain’t got nobody on your 
side who can. You’re beat at the very start.” 

“Just you wait a little,” scoffed Harris. “We are 
going to do your side up till you will be ashamed to 
try to husk any more.” 

The participants now arranged themselves along 
the outer edge of the crescent, and husking without 
pegs threw the golden ears forward into a central 
heap, and pushed the husks behind, where they were 
gathered by small boys and crowded into a rail pen. 

“Red eari mighty nigh the first thing,” exclaimed 
Robert Kester, as he interrupted the husking of a 
tinted ear to imprint two very genuine kisses on the 
ruby lips of Virginia Walbridge. 

“Here there, you fellow,” yelled Curtis. “Only 
one kiss; not two. You’ll lose time.” 

But generous Ash Curtis deftly slipped a red ear 
into the hand of his first assistant, and Frank took a 
kiss to which he was fully entitled, since it was in 
obedience to a rule of the husking bee. 

“Medie, I am sorry I could not return that dollar 
and chain any quicker. But that man came back 
sooner than he said he would.” 

“I believe he meant to all the while.” 

15 


234 


LAND OF THF LAURFL. 


“Did he ask where the trinket had gone to ? ” 

“No, but he guessed it; and I wouldn’t answer him 
yes or no.” 

“You couldn’t have done a better thing, Medie, 
than getting hold of that letter. It was worth more 
than anything else in catching that man and putting 
a stop to his doings.” 

“I thought it was going to be some good. But it 
caused you a dreadful run.” 

“But I ran to some purpose, I believe, and so it 
was all right. Where is his gift now, Medie ? ” 
“Thrown away. I went off our ground and drop- 
ped it way down a groundhog’s burrow. Thought it 
would poison the groundhog as quick as an} T thing. 
That book of his I put in the fire. He wouldn’t have 
bothered me any more, but he would have sold dad’s 
notes, and we would have lost our farm. Please don’t 
speak of him again, Prank.” 

‘ ‘ I don’t want to, after this time. But yon know 
who he thought he was going to make you become, 
Medie. Now may not my beating him in his scheme 
that day be just as much to me as he had thought it 
was going to be to him ? ” 

Perhaps the question was long and clumsy, yet it 
was as promptly and perfectly comprehended as 
though it had been composed of five good Saxon mono- 
syllables. The response in words may not have been 
very audible, but the gentle hand that had been strip- 
ping off corn-husks a moment before, now sought the 
shelter of that belonging to the lion-hearted young 
fellow who had risked his life to avert ruin from her 


LAND OF THE LAUREL. 


235 


and those nearest to her. And there were several re- 
ciprocal kisses, for which no red ears lent special 
sanction. 

“Frank you will be away to school for four years,” 
said Almeda. 

“So it looks now,’’ was the reply. 

“I am going- to get a little schooling after a while, 
so you will not be ashamed of me.” 

A sister and a probable brother-in-law were sitting 
nearest the young people, but even had they tried to 
hear what was being said, they were smypathetic 
listeners. And if Frank and Almeda did not quite 
husk their full quota, their neighbors understood the 
situation and made up the lack. 

“Put in your best licks now, and we’ll beat them 
fellows,” said Ash Curtis softly, as he returned from 
an inspection of his line of battle. 

There were derisive cheers from the other company, 
and the rival commands redoubled their exertions. 
But Curtis was the winning captain, and when his 
host had completed its work, there was a cheering 
and a waving of hats and sunbonnets. Several of the 
victorious army now bore their chiel forward to the 
pole. They might not pass beyond, for this was a 
rule which might not be broken. 

There was now a combined attack upon the remain- 
der of the pile, and by nine o’clock the husking of 
the entire crop of the farm was completed. An 
adjournment to the house followed, where another 
assault was made, this time in smaller detachments 
and upon the baked turkey, chicken and other eat- 


236 LAND OF THE LAUREL. 

ables which had been generously provided for the 

occasion. 

“Now for some games,” announced Curtis, when 
the last section of the throng had vacated the supper 
table. 

“Let’s play shuff,” rejoined the defeated captain. 
“You start off, Ash, so we can have a chance to 
warp you good.” 

“That’ll be all right. Lay it on,” replied Curtis. 

The players arranged themselves in a circle, and 
Ash Curtis took position in the center. With a wet 
towel twisted into the form of a club the victim was 
incessantly pelted, the weapon being passed from one 
to another. But at length an assailant was identi- 
fied, and had to take the place of the one running the 
gauntlet. Other games followed, and it was not 
until near midnight that the last guest took his 
departure. 

These people worked hard but were not consumed 
with a feverish haste in the bettering of their condi- 
tion. In the phase of co-operative farming which 
they found so necessary, they enjoyed life with a 
comradeship and a broad-handed hospitality which 
are less in evidence in the changed agriculture of our 
own time. 


XXII 

MORNING AND EVENING 

Morn is the time to act, noon to endure ; 

But O ! if thou wouldst keep thy spirit pure, 

Turn from the beaten paths, by worldlings trod, 

Go forth at eventide, in heart to walk with God. 

— Emma C. Embury. 

Toward the middle of June, in the year 1853, a tall 
3 r oung man of fine appearnce and military bearing 
alighted from a carriage before the Union Hotel in 
Kingwood. But instead of entering the tavern at 
once, he walked direct to the courthouse door and 
passed into the office of Mr. Darrell, the circuit clerk. 

“Why,” exclaimed that official, “if here isn’t the 
former assistant to Hoover, the secret service man! 
I believe it is now in order to address you as Lieuten- 
ant Colbert, of the United States regular army. You 
are looking well. You have not had a chance to see 
us since 3 ^our furlough two years ago. I see you fol- 
low the milita^ custom of wearing a mustache ; and 
you have a fine black one, too. Beards are not so 
uncommon any longer, since the gold-hunters began 
to return from California, all whiskered out. We 
never used to see a beard except on the face pf a 
Dunkard friend. Only the other day I heard one of 
the brethren complaining after this manner, ‘ Mine 
Gott, you can hartly tell a brudder from a sinner any 
more ! ’ Well, do you see any change in our country, 
since your visit two years ago ?” 

“Yes, indeed, I do! When I took that walk to 
West Union to meet Captain Hoover, there was only 
one cabin by the cranberry meadow at the Green^ 


238 


LAND OF THK LAURKL. 


Glades. Quite a village has grown up there since the 
railroad came along. When I was home on furlough, 
trains were not yet running into the county. The 
locomotive will now take a person clear through to 
Wheeling.” 

“Down here at Greigsville is a sight worth seeing,” 
said Darrell. “They are digging a tunnel almost a 
mile long through the mountain. It is said to be the 
longest one in America. Squads of Irish sometimes 
pass through here coming from the National Road. 
They will ask, ‘How fur is it to the big toonnel?’ ” 

“And the stages have gone out of business, I am 
told,” pursued the young officer. 

“Yes, the stages were taken off last fall, both from 
the National Road and the Northwestern Pike. The 
traffic on those roads is falling off very fast. Well, 
I can now recognize that we are living in different 
times. We nave a new state constitution, and elect 
our local officers now. We have a county court of 
thirty-two justices. It looks quite like a legislature 
in itself. Then there’s hardly a week that you don’t 
hear of some important invention in the machinery 
line. I look for the time to come when our farming 
will' be carried on in a different way from what it is 
now. Where have you been assigned to duty ? ” 

“To engineering work on the sea coast.” 

“Just now you seem to be pointed toward the 
glades,” remarked Darrell, significantly. “Some 
girl out there will change her name soon.” 

“Undoubted^,” was the prompt admission. 

“I fear there will yet be trouble between the free 
and the slave states,” said the clerk, assuming a more 


LAND OF THF LAURFL 239 

serious tone. u The repeal of the Missouri Compro- 
mise has made a lot of bad feeling-. I hope your mil- 
itary education will not have to be called into use 
ag-ainst American citizens.” 

‘‘I hope not,” added Colbert very ferventlj\ 

jjc 

The dial of time in the progress of our story marks 
the further stride of a full half-century. It points 
the reader to a seaside villa, nestling: amid handsome 
shade trees and flowering- shrubbery. Before the 
portico is the smooth green lawn, sloping- gently tow- 
ard the beach of a tidal inlet. Churning into foam 
the blue waters is the crowded ferry boat, bearing- 
homeward its freig-ht of men and women from their 
places of toil in the nearby city. Scores of hand- 
kerchiefs flutter in the breeze, in honor of the swift 
approaching- steamship. Pleasure boats are scurry- 
ing- here and there, like waterfowl of white plumag-e. 
From beyond the villa-crowned heig-hts of the oppos- 
ing- shore, come the slanting- rays of the declining 
sun. The balmy June day is drawing- to a g-lorious 
close. 

On the broad portico is the erect figfure of a gfray- 
bearded man. It is General Francis M. Colbert, a 
civil engineer of much repute, and a brave and skill- 
ful soldier of the war of the sixties. When the de- 
mon of discord hurried his native land into the throes 
of a desolating- strife, and rent in twain his beloved 
Virginia, the sense of duty of the young: officer could 
not tear him from the only flag- he had known in boy- 
hood. Yet many of his classmates, equally consci- 
entious and equally devoted to what they held to be 


240 


LAND OF THF LAURKL. 


right, were to align themselves under the folds of 
the stars and bars. 

After the smoke of the fearful conflict had rolled 
away from the reunited land, General Colbert turned 
with relief to the more peaceful pursuit of building 
railroads. 

Near the old soldier sits the now white-haired com- 
panion of these fifty }^ears. It was she who nursed 
him back to strength when he was disabled by a 
wound, and on the soundness of her intuition and her 
judgment he has ever placed the highest value. Her 
share in bringing Galwix to his deserts has never 
been forgotten. 

Approaching from the lawn is a man of military 
figure walking between a boy and a girl. He is the 
eldest of eight sons and daughters of the white- 
haired veteran, and he too has inherited the martial 
instinct of the family, for he is a captain in the reg- 
ular army. He answers to the name of Seth, and in 
the drawingroom of the villa is a fine oil portrait 
of Colonel Hoover, the lifelong friend for whom the 
name was given. The ashes of the guide and bene- 
factor now repose beneath a monument in one of our 
largest national cemeteries. 

But there is another picture toward which the old 
man often looks with fond remembrance. It is that 
of the humble mountain home in far off West Vir- 
ginia, where Almeda was wooed and won, and whence 
he began that race in the dark, whose incidental 
reward was the training which fitted him for his 
lifework. 


THF KND 





* aV'^x 

* xV ' V*V • 

* V V * 

A ,6' 

A* .0«O^ %£ A . k / * 



^ *° • * * A <\ **? T * % ' « 6 V ^ ' o '. »* A 

t 0M 4 <|» A A . t » * . <<y r o"o 

° ^ c° ^ 4 <* • 



A m ’ J 2 % U , * r % * Jp cv % 

** 1# ^ * 
0 ** # °* A ** V / 4 . cv 

♦ j < YW / k ° ' O . AV ♦ * V * 



•’b^ 


0*0 



*+£ 


J- 0 ^ 

A? A-*-' > 

V * 


* aV **> X 

* ^ •. 

.<*• ... y -' 



* Ap «£■ o 
. * < L V «{► * 

> * * ♦ 5 4V 

qv ¥ i i o ^ CD «& o 0 N 0 + o *. /y 

* C _ f, w O xv • -rVVcv „V v 

J> *y. V * jj&JJ r/^-, w .\ ,. X\\\\V>So ,/> »J 


k » * 




* y - * 


<» '••*' A o *. '»• ** A 

o 0 N ° 4 ■<£> . (y 0 ^ f • * c 0 N 

• „ <* *? v _ <*, t O x ' D ' • 




A < 
•*b $ : 



o A vv 

S V vV «• 

^ *,^ 7 *" ^ Q -, % NV ^ r ’ 9 * ~0 

^ v . *L^L'* c\ <<y * Y * 7> 

** Vo - * ft 5i • 

• ^ A * 

: >v n r* v* 

o ^ MW * aV ** 

k <lA ^ 2) V < * V 

cv \5 ' 


° ^ 4 A * 

o ^ . 





<>'^T‘- -o -'o.T*' A' %'*TWT.' &♦’ 

A . «• ' a >» A c ° " ° *» A . t * * 

y . /* J'^>/y7?^ •* .i .iv . r^ycv <► *P > VJ t 

1 * r • >-/ * Jj&rfl/y??-. i O' « ^5v\vm'%» <•* T. C 

>*- -V6 4 7i £M3k : 7)^ » 

o A V\ 

' ^ ^ * **0yivj&* **> 

K 4 - .A CV g > 

» » *• * 




J » „.„ v . . - - - 

O ^" V ^ S 3 • V 

O ‘ o . o * . 0 ; 





* ^ % • 



* 


> ■« 5 •> o \0 vv *■ * vi 

** CN V^l^V r)^ ^ V^gPSV JP 

,... \ ' 0 " 00 ^ 0 ^ ** ,n# «$* 


-1 

^ * 1 
<?> **- 11 * 

a' ^ 

'**» •*. ♦' 

°, %•& 

^ V ^ 

s 4 * r£ 

0 * +o 

S *'M^% % v * 

%>Wt ,” * 0v ^ v T 

O^ * ON o° ,0° ^S> *®/i*' ^ ^’••T.» a0 

^v ^ 1 • o^ '\> ^\ s s • • , qV t 

* «& %./ ^ ^ 

* v ^ :lsi ^ vw.- ** v \ . 

^ ^ A * *> %; 


*-> 




>:« .<v <* \\ 

4 ^ <> ♦; 



****.••* <0 f "o. *o, * * V* O * 7 ? 

<^, . • 1 ' * ♦ ^ *& 0 0 w ° -» <^v 

"TiV. c.° °o . 4 * *, 



